Monday, September 14, 2015


I have a teenager now. I had planned on writing a post about how challenging life with teenagers can be. They are stinky, lazy, self-centered, eye rolling, oversleeping, food sucking machines. I could go on and on about how suddenly I am afraid to walk I her bedroom in fear that one mess, or pile of our entire collection of dinner plates laying on the floor, will just set me off in a way that I am not prepared for. I could tell a story about how much her life revolves around anime, drawing and not doing any chores with out a preemptive deep sigh.

Layla: Can you please, please buy me those Pokémon socks?
Me: seriously?
Layla: they are only fourteen dollars. Puh-leese?? I am begging you. I will do anything. I promise - as soon as we get home I will clean my room. I will do extra chores, dishes, take out the trash. Anything you want.
Me: How about this. I have to come back to the mall in a few days. You clean your room and do a few extra chores and I will buy you the socks.
Layla: well, I don’t want them that bad

I want to complain about how much she minipulates her little sister to do all her work. As a big sister, i am astounded by the things she has Olivia do for her. She wakes her up, packs her lunch and has even been known to turn a page while lazy girl reads. 

Olivia: Seriously Layla, I do everthing for you. What is going to happen when we are older? I am going to have to come to your house. Clean your rooom. Do your laundry and feed your ten cats. 

While everyday life with a hormonal teenage daughter has been challenging and a constant battle of wits, I cant help but feel overwhelming nostalgia for the part of her I will never get back again. I am talking about that baby she used to be. Layla was always overly grown up, even at eighteen months when she just wanted to draw pictures instead of going outside. But she was always my smart, introverted little girl. While she was at guitar lessons tonight, we took the two little ones for a walk in our old neighborhood. This was the neighborhood that Layla was born in and we lived until she was eleven months. It was our first family home. The little playground at the dead end of the street was the first time she ever felt the tummy tickle that comes from being pushed in a swing.

Everything about Layla’s thirteenth birthday has made me nostalgic. It is because I am so excited for her. Thirteen…the official start to the self-discovery of becoming an adult. She is at the eve of her first date, first kiss and first heartbreak. Soon she will learn to drive and go off to college. She is still in the optimistic half of her life and has a wide-open future. I want to be thirteen again, not for awkwardness or the cliques or the self-consciousness but for the freedom to think that anything is possible.

Layla: I want to be an artist, or a video game designer, or an astronomer. Will I make a lot of money doing any of those things?
Me: if you are worried about making money doing what you love then I have failed as a parent.

Walking through the park tonight brought me to that nostalgic place I needed to be. It brought me out of the self-pity funk I was feeling; the standard “my daughter is old; I am old” pity party I throw myself. It reminded me of the child I was when I had her and the fear I had that I would somehow not be good enough as a parent because I was young, inexperienced and broke. Looking at the landscape that hasn’t changed in the last thirteen years, I am reminded of how far we have come. Me and that sweet baby girl that put a halt on life as I knew it. I hugged her and sang the same verse of “Layla” I do every year. “Like a fool, I fell in love with you; you turned my whole world upside down”. Thank you sweet girl. Thank you.





1 comment:

  1. Beautiful. Love our Layla. She is growing up way too fast.


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