New Thing -- Nose Ring

A weekend that wasn’t too bad—possibly even good. I was busy with my friends all day Saturday and my daughter had the day off from me (and from any responsibilities). So it was a win-win situation. I went skiing and she watched TV and dyed her hair black.

We had our usual Sunday together, which started off with me being the grumpy one for a change. Her cats scratched at my door and jumped on the doorknob to try to break into my room. Naturally, this happened at 5, 6, and 6:30 a.m. I finally went downstairs to see if they were hungry, then went to the fridge to get some OJ. My daughter was in charge of buying it for me the day before (was even allowed to keep the change), but she got orange “beverage” instead. Obviously, she wasn’t paying attention and just wanted to buy the cheapest item so she could keep the maximum change. I complained loudly, and she got out of bed and ran to the store for me. Either she felt badly or she didn’t want to hear me complain.

Fast forward to a few hours later. We got over the grump hump and snuggled a bit with her cats and made some jokes, talked to her sister on the phone, and finally got dressed to go out. I was quite dismayed at her choice of outfits and that fact that she wears a loop in her nose, not a post. It’s gross and, to make matters worse, the hole is swollen and possibly infected. She also had dye stains on her face, neck, and hands. She is so beautiful, but looked a bit unkempt. But I never want to destroy the confidence she’s gained or the relationship we’ve build by voicing my criticisms, so I keep my mouth shut and strategically pick my battles. My mind loops loudly, though.

We ended up at a Paradise Bakery where we could use the free wi-fi and set her up with her work benefits. She was so excited and felt very proud to be able to provide her own medical insurance. Her company covers her 100%, which saves me $300 a month. That makes me smile just thinking about it. Then, I don’t know what came over me, I bought us tickets to see one of the Cirque du Soleil shows in Las Vegas and we planned a trip right then and there.

We were so excited, but that wasn’t the highlight. Oh, no. One of the teenage boys working there and my daughter kept giving each other the eye. Obvious, big, bold flirting. He kept passing by our table and looking at her out of the corner of his eye, and she gave him her big pretty smile with those dreamy eyes of hers…When we got up to leave, he put a little cookie package on table and said, “Here’s an extra cookie for the road.” She picked it up and it had his number on it!! OMG, right in front of her mother. I don’t know if it was because she looked like a sweetheart or looked like she was easy. I’m so afraid because the nose and tongue piercings might make her appear to be something she’s not (or maybe she is?).

I still see her as my baby-child and I want to protect her, but she’s so tough on the outside that I wonder if she needs my protection. I’m drawn to nurture her and really never want her out of my sight, just off my nerves!

We took a long and actually wonderful walk through the tourist section of town where the shops were all buzzing, live musicians were playing, and an arts festival was going on. We chatted about her new position at work, the meaning of bankruptcy, why she considers her best friend her best friend…we shopped in some of the boutiques for fun, shared a huge ice cream sundae, and just had a nice time. Then we did some food shopping and bought some fun snacks for her for the office and some other things she needed, and just had a nice day together. I like days that end with the word NICE.

Sunday Brunch

The honeymoon is officially over, but the marriage will last for sure. Yesterday was our “Sunday brunch” day that my dear daughter started a few months ago. Unfortunately, it was rather unpleasant and we never had brunch—not even breakfast or lunch. We did have a snack…does that count?

 After allowing her to sleep nearly 15 hours (in a row), she woke up in a foul mood. No matter how much I tried to not let it happen, her attitude ruined my day and broke my spirit. I didn’t argue with her, lecture her, or show that I was riled (kudos for me), I just felt it deeply.

Her grandmother (my mother) came over for lunch, and my daughter  was a bitch to her, too. She was surly and unfriendly, and brushed past her without a greeting. My mother is tough, but extremely sensitive, so I could see how hurt she was. I told my mom that her granddaughter was just in a bad mood and to ignore it, but that was tough for both of us because she’s a bit “in your face” with her hostility.

We’ve learned, though, that to pay too much attention to her during these episodes is asking for an argument and more ugly belligerence. She’s even told everyone to let her be, let her figure it out. She’s like a man who has to go into his cave. Eventually, she comes around and talks to one of us about what’s on her mind, then behaves as if nothing ever happened.

Unfortunately, my mother made things worse by bringing her little dog, whom my daughter isn’t exactly in love with in the first place. We don’t like having him over because we have three cats who are totally indoor animals, and don’t know how to socialize with dogs.

The nanosecond the dog walked in, he went for one of the cats, who proceeded to climb up the curtains (putting holes into them with his claws), launch onto the vertical blinds, and pull down five or six of the slats. The cat then became even more freaked out by the sound of the blinds falling and ran out to our balcony and leapt over the railing to the one next door. He had never done that before, and didn’t know how to come back. He was terrified and my daughter was furious and stomped around yelling and crying and generally bitching.

It was resolved a bit later when the neighbor came home and we could just get him from their balcony, but the damage was done and the mood around there was nasty.

After a few rounds of cards, my mother left me alone with my little monster. After a little while, I guess my daughter got a text message that calmed her down a little and made her behave a little more decently. She invited me to play a game of cards, then best two out of three, then a game of Scrabble. She even let me win. She was normal-ish after that, and took her shower, got prettied up, and ran some errands.

 By the time she came home, she was the sweet version of my daughter whom I remember from a while back.  She went to bed early so she could make a great impression for the first day of her new job at her company. She took care of everything herself, and was so organized that she even had time to snuggle with me before she left for work.

Is this normal or am I living with The Three Faces of Eve??

Can You Trust a Teenager? I Pray That It's Possible.

Only a small skirmish with my daughter today, about trust. She worked this morning and like a good girl, came home afterward. She even checked in with her nana (even though Nana forgot she made that agreement with her) and helped me bake brownies.

Today I spent the day getting ready for a little get-together I'm having, and it was understood that my daughter would be home. We did get along and my chill had warmed a little toward her, but my trust is pretty fragile at this moment. She asked what time my thing started, the answer to which was 6 hours from then, and she had the nerve to ask if she could go "chill with one of my homies." Ugh, that damn street slang. I asked her to whom she was referring, and it was someone she's told me several times is a "douche." I wasn't seeing the appeal and said, "Are we going to start this shit again?"

Of course she was mad, but she didn't argue. But her face showed animosity and I told her it's about trust. Why should I trust her? She set my trust back by miles--so how will she prove herself? She just argued and got defensive, which doesn't work with me. I told her that she needs to follow through on her promises and responsibilities between now and February 7 or else I can't leave on a major overseas trip. I'm accompanying my mother to Egypt, her lifelong dream, and I don't want to have to disappoint her because my daughter effed up again.

Please G-d, if you answer prayers from people who don't often pray and NEVER go to services, I beg of you--let my daughter be a good, honest, trustworthy girl from now on. I'm praying because nothing else works. I'm a good person, G-d, can you throw me a bone?

I Am Two Mothers—Part 3 of 3

The mother with the troubled daughter is aware that her daughter is manipulative and knows when to turn on the charm. The attitude is sweet and sugary when she wants something or is about to knowingly do something wrong. The sweetness thwarts suspicion and stops this mom like kryptonite. This mother also faces an ugly, black attitude when the daughter doesn't like what she hears. The attitude comes with razor-sharp words, condescension, and flippant disrespect that pushes every button in the mother's consciousness. The things that are said go against everything she stands for and has tried to instill in her children. It puts her at the intersection of anger, despair, pain, and disbelief.

The other mother tells her friends that her daughter and she get along like she's always dreamed they could. Of course, once in a while, that daughter is a little sarcastic, but "Mama Bear" can laugh it off because it's so rare. Her daughter takes "no" rather well, realizing that mother knows best. That kid is such a sweetie and she's a lucky mom.

The mother with the troubled daughter is unnerved by how poorly the girl treats her belongings. Her room is constantly a mess, with trash on the floor, an unmade bed, clothes strewn all over, and a general air of chaos. The same goes for the girl's car—it's a newer model car and was in perfect condition when she bought it. In just a few short months, the back window was smashed in, the windshield is cracked, one tire popped, and there are stains on all the seats; there's trash on the floor, the seats, the trunk, and the console; the entire car smells like cigarette and pot smoke; there's a gash on the door and a dent on the side—the car looks like it's 20 years old.This mom cringes when she she's the disaster that surrounds her daughter, and no amount of nagging, suggesting, or doing it for her makes a difference. It feels hopeless. The worst part is that it probably represents what goes on in her daughter's mind.

The other mother says her daughter has a cute, bright red car that suits her bright personality. As a present (and to keep the car pristine), this mother bought her daughter fun zebra-striped car seat covers, a zebra-striped steering wheel cover, and a zebra-striped license plate frame. They both love how cute it makes the car—really makes that red "pop." She brags that her daughter is so proud of her car—and mom is proud that her daughter pays for the car and insurance all by herself. That girl has really learned the value of a dollar by having to fund this car herself!

I'm two moms, and it's exhausting. I'm aging before everyone's eyes and can't explain to anyone why. No matter what I try—eating well, exercising, being more social—I'm still so stressed out that I have chronic headaches, stomachaches, and backaches. My hair is graying, my skin is dry, and I DO NOT SLEEP. I'm reluctant to bring a man into my life because I'm (a) embarrassed about my daughter and (b) afraid to bring someone into this chaos. Because of my daughter, I'm flat broke, depressed half the time (despite medication), and desperately lonely.

Of course, the other mother puts a smile on her face and says, "This is my year!"

I Am Two Mothers—Part 2 of 3

The mother with the troubled daughter is suspicious of anyone her daughter calls “friend.” Their experience has been almost entirely negative—the daughter plus any one of those friends equals raves, drugs, sexual activity, various illegal activity, curfew violations, smoking, drinking, and general badness. The friendships have not lasted, usually because someone has caused another to get into trouble, and the drama and hard feelings cause the flimsy bonds to disintegrate. The friendships are based on nothing solid—no emotional ties, no history, no common values. Her daughter has virtually no real friends because she can’t maintain the relationships beyond a brief amount of time.

The other mother tries very hard to ignore what is right before her eyes when she meets or hears about the new friends her daughter makes. If they’re from work—well, they have a job and ambition. If she met them through a friend—well, she has a nice social life and is meeting new and interesting people. If they’re older by three or four years—well, she’s always related to older kids; that’s why she graduated high school early. She didn’t relate to the average person at school.

The mother with the troubled daughter couldn’t stand the bad grades, the calls from teachers, the refusal to join anything at school, the failure to complete any program that was made especially for her from the guidance counselor. This mother couldn’t handle watching her daughter become depressed, isolated, and refuse help. This mother let her daughter get her GED at 16 so that they could all escape the torture in hopes that the daughter would be so grateful, that she’d fulfill her promise to get a job, save money, and generally be happier. Her daughter has a job, but is always at risk of losing it because of her behaviors outside work. She’s even been called into the HR department because she was suspected of being high on marijuana.

The other mother tells everyone that her daughter is gifted and school was moving too slowly for her. She was anxious to graduate, so she took online classes and graduated two years early. Her daughter does indeed have a great job and, of course, happily pays for her own car and insurance.

I Am Two Mothers—Part I of 3

I have a split personality, minus the mental illness (though some days I’m not so sure about that). I am two mothers in one body—one mother whose daughter is more of a challenge than she should have to handle, and another mother who hides this reality from the world.

The mother with the troubled daughter worries to the point of having ulcers, muscle aches, heart aches, hours of weeping, and bouts of anxiety. She lies awake at night wondering what she did wrong—evaluating everything from the genetic pool within her child, the environment in which she was raised, the experiences she’s been exposed to—to the friends she’s chosen and the city they live in.

The other mother tells her friends and social contacts that her daughter is doing great! That girl has come so far that she makes her weep for joy just thinking about her. This mother answers the “How’s your daughter doing?” questions with, “I’m so proud of her for her accomplishments. Everyone should have a daughter like mine.”

The mother with the troubled daughter had picked her daughter up from the police a half dozen times because of curfew violations, accidents, shoplifting, being in possession of paraphernalia, and allowing an unlicensed teenager to drive her car. This mother  has paid fines, driven her daughter to court, and given lectures on breaking the law and making good choices. This mother has also found out that her daughter has been sexually active for a long time, with the number of partners ranging from at least five, but more likely around 15.

The other mother tells her friends and social contacts that her daughter is a typical teenager, who has a messy room and is sometimes a little lazy, and if that’s the worst a kid could do, give me my kid every time. This mother goes to brunch with her daughter every Sunday, and takes her on little shopping sprees because it’s their “bonding” time. Her daughter knows that having sex can lead to pregnancy, which she’s seen among people all around her, and has decided she doesn’t want to take that risk. Yep, her daughter is abstinent, doesn’t touch pot, and would never break the law.

Same &^#$% Different Day

Yesterday, I stayed home from work because I didn’t feel well—backache, stomachache, headache. It gave me an opportunity to spend the morning with my daughter in a non-rushed, like-old-times kind of way. She was in a great mood, represented by how gorgeous she looked when she got ready for work. She had such a big smile and looked so pretty that I took a photo of her and posted it on Facebook.

Off to work she went in all her glory, maturity, and confidence. I was proud to have such a magnificent daughter and thought, “Finally, we’ve arrived at a good place. The hard work has paid off.” I continued my day—resting, cleaning, doing whatever I needed to do to feel better.

Fast forward to the evening. My daughter texted me that she would be spending the night at her friend’s house and that she loved me. I responded that it would be okay, and I loved her back. I went about my business, having a mellow evening, watching American Idol, checking my e-mail and Facebook accounts, and relaxing. With everything in order, I took two Advil PMs for the pain, turned the ringer off my phone, and read my book until I fell asleep.

My alarm went off at 6:30 and, groggy though I was, I got started on my day. I happened to look at my cell phone and I saw that my mother had tried to call me at 6! I panicked because that could only mean one thing—that she or my stepfather was in trouble. My stepfather is dying of emphysema and I thought for sure she was calling to tell me some awful news. But there was no message—which is unlike my mother. I called immediately and she said she and my daughter were pulling into the complex.

Turns out, the police called my mother (I told my daughter I would not take any more of these phone calls and would not come to her if she got in trouble). I guess the police insisted on calling someone, so they bothered my 74-year-old mother from her sleep. Really, it was my daughter doing the bothering—the police were doing their job. I told my mom she should’ve let the police take her in, but my mom doesn’t know how many times we’ve been through this because I’ve not told her anything. She thinks it’s the first incident, so she thinks her granddaughter will learn her lesson from this scary incident. Little does she know…

What a surprise—she didn’t sleep over her friend’s house; instead, she was with two boys from work who were up at 5:30 a.m. smoking pot in her car.  An alert neighbor called the police because my daughter lit a sparkler and they were nervous. That’s her story, along with, “I wasn’t smoking; I haven’t in SO long; I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.” The truth is in there somewhere, but I’d need a savvy translator to help me find it.

Not sure why she wasn’t allowed to drive her car home since they didn’t give her a citation of any kind, but now it’s her problem how she’s going to pick up that car and get to work, and make sure she saves her job. She earned a promotion that starts in three days. Did she blow it? That’s where it becomes my problem, unfortunately.

When she entered my house, I told her that I’m ashamed of her, that she lied again, that I don’t trust her, that she needs to get her act together, and to simply not talk to me. I don’t deserve this, she doesn’t deserve my support, and I didn’t raise my children this way. At the moment, I don’t care if I was too harsh. I’m disgusted. She agreed with me and was sad, apologetic, and remorseful, and told me this was the last time (this is the fifth last time, by the way). She doesn’t like this and feels ashamed that her beloved grandmother is involved now. I had no time to deal with it because I was getting ready for work.

So I had to write this piece at work because I can’t concentrate until this is out of my head and in black and white. I’m angry, frustrated, disgusted, and don’t want to tell anyone. Everyone thinks I’m such a great mother, but look how my daughter behaves! Same &^#$%, different &^#$% day.

Baby Bear's Home: Things Are Not "Just Right" for Mama Bear

My dear daughter has been back at home for about a week now and it’s actually been a little difficult for me. Not that I don’t love having her around or know in my heart it’s where she belongs, it’s that she brings a storm with her. She’s not depressed anymore, so I’m not talking about a black cloud that surrounds her, I mean life just doesn’t seem orderly. She keeps odd hours, her room is a mess, her cats are roaming around and knocking things over, she forgets to put things away (I’m not excusing her—I truly believe she either forgets or doesn’t notice the stuff I do), she doesn’t remember how to make her bed, and there are empty containers in the cupboard and fridge.

I’m a bit of a neat freak, as you can probably guess, and lifestyle-wise, my daughter and I are very incompatible—though I totally adore her. It’s so hard to explain. She wasn’t gone very long, but it didn’t take me long to decide I loved the calmness, organization, and total lack of chaos. I also loved a clean, cat hair-free existence. My daughter can make a decent home look like a fraternity house in ten minutes—she may hold the world record.

I decided not to go back to curfews and normal rules since she’s already lived on her own and I can’t take that away from her, but I haven’t slacked off on my constant, pathological checking up. At this stage, I just want to hear her voice or see her text message to know she’s okay and to relieve my parental anxiety. I make no excuses to her about it, and she said it’s nice to know someone actually cares—but I don’t have to worry so much.

My daughter has been very pleasant, agreeable, reliable, and respectful. She gave me a new nickname—Mama Bear—and I love it. She’s even gladly introduced me to many of her new friends, most of whom I like, and told them I’m the most important person in her life. Either she’s a entirely new person or there’s something brewing. I prefer to believe the former and live in la-la land. After what we’ve been through, it’s a nice place to come home to.

Well, That Was Fast--My Daughter Moved Back Home

Here’s an update I didn’t think I’d be making any time soon. My “troubled teen,” whom I thought had made it in the big world is BACK HOME. I definitely have many mixed feelings about it.

I was beginning to get used to the peace and cleanliness in my house (not the quiet). It was effortless to be home—for over a month it was orderly, organized, clean, and good-smelling. There were no children, big dirty shoes, no litter boxes, no bad attitudes, no arguments, no cat fur in my mascara…but there was hollowness, stark silence, and an empty refrigerator.

The bottom line is, I missed my little girl—but the baggage that she comes her? Not so much. But I’ll take it because I love her in a way that only strong, dedicated parents understand. No matter what she does or says, she can’t break me or my heartstrings. I am, always have been, and always will be her rock. And she’ll always be my love girl.

So anyway, here’s how it went down. I was in Walmart after work, shopping for some goodies for my upcoming book club (one of my passions). I left my phone in the car so I could just get my stuff done without interruption. I didn’t think for one second that my daughter would call, as this was during her work hours, so I rambled around the store at my leisure.

Once back in the car, I saw that there were about five missed calls from her and one sobbing voicemail. I admit, I rolled my eyes in my mind and said, “Shit, what now, damnit?” After several tries, I got in touch her, and she said, “Mommy, can you come help me move out?” The “mommy” title was very telling; she was in great need.

We talked for the duration of the 45 minute trip to her apartment so she could calm down. She told me the details and I became pretty inflamed. There were so many problems that she exposed—first and foremost, she was accused of stealing from the roommate and there were issues over guys squatting in the apartment. My daughter actually took matters into her own hands and threw one of them out (proud of her for taking a stand). The roommate told my daughter that if she didn’t like the ground rules that she set up, she could just get the hell out. This was after the rent was paid for the month, of course.

I put in a call to the roommate, who was at work. It was a formal one stating that if they didn’t work out the issues at hand, that she would owe me for the remaining days of the month as I actually paid the rent for January. A thousand text messages followed, and I just stopped responding. The roommate is intelligent and articulate; she just uses her mind for negative purposes. My daughter tried to convince her that they should sit down and talk about their many issues, but the girl refused and demanded that she leave immediately. To make a long story short, within a couple of hours, both our cars were jam-packed with her belongings and her three cats, and we were on our way home. I was sweating bullets and so very sad for my still-weeping child. “Why am I such a failure?!” she kept crying out.

There has been another barrage of texts, but I’m not entertaining them right now. There are claims about damage, keys, court, etc. and I want to process this, and my daughter needs to as well. There were also issues that the roommate could get into big trouble for—selling pot from the apartment, arrest warrants, and who know what else.

My child and I will discuss this and solve the problems together; she clearly needs my support and I won’t let her down. I don’t agree with everything she’s done, but I give her lots of credit for trying to do well. For now, she needs to kick ass at work and get herself organized. She’s already calmer and happier, and has asked me to forbid her to ever move out again because she always does better at home with me. She broke down and cried about all the trouble she’s caused and to please forgive her. Of course I will. We are strong women in our family, and we’ll move on and put this past us. Life is too short to wallow in misery.

We’re now in the process of moving her back into her room and getting her organized one day at a time. I’ve set ground rules about friends, behaviors, etc. I can do that—I’m the parent/grownup and it’s my home. My daughter doesn’t seem to mind that I’m asserting my well-deserved authority.

This child has a bit of life cleanup to do—she let her car get trashed, she’s not been taking great care of herself, she’s been dressing sloppily for work, she’s not exercising or volunteering, and she hasn’t been eating well. Mama’s stepping in—it’s not a control thing; it’s a “get back to basics” thing. She needs the structure and has come to realize that I’m right again and that she should’ve listened to me in the first place. What’s the expression? Hindsight is 20/20.

My Daughter's Independence Is Costing Me

My independent daughter is trying really hard to take care of herself and handle all the responsibilities of living on her own, paying her bills, tending to her three cats…but she’s asked me many times for “a few bucks.” I had to pay her rent this month because her hours were reduced at work and she simply didn’t have enough. When I asked her how much she needed, it was the entire amount. She’s seeing how expensive life and getting into trouble can be. Most of her paychecks have gone to bills, tickets, fines, and basic living. She has not been able to “enjoy” a single dime. She can’t afford to buy cigarettes, beer, weed, body piercings, or anything else in her dreams!

Every day, there’s a reminder of her struggle to be “good.” I just received a photo radar speeding ticket in the mail with her pretty face looking into the camera. Ironically, she was headed for a restaurant to have dinner with her grandmother. Even doing something right she does something wrong!

Yesterday, there were four overdraft notices on her checking account in the mail. She had her paycheck automatically deposited, yet her expenses exceed her income. She’s not getting that these fees are eating up her money. I feel so terrible for her, but she doesn’t ask for my advice on avoiding these mishaps. I keep explaining that she’s not an orphan and there are people to reach out to, but she feels so guilty about all the trouble she’s caused, that she wants to solve all her own issues. She’s not equipped to do that just yet, but I’m proud of her for having the desire. I SO wish she’d ask for help—her pride is costing me a lot of money.

Quotes on Parenting Teens

The young always have the same problem - how to rebel and conform at the same time.  They have now solved this by defying their parents and copying one another.  Quentin Crisp

Heredity is what sets the parents of a teenager wondering about each other.  ~Laurence J. Peter

If you want to recapture your youth, just cut off his allowance.  Al Bernstein

When buying a used car, punch the buttons on the radio.  If all the stations are rock and roll, there's a good chance the transmission is shot.  Larry Lujack

Never lend your car to anyone to whom you have given birth.  Erma Bombeck

Adolescence is perhaps nature's way of preparing parents to welcome the empty nest.  Karen Savage and Patricia Adams, The Good Stepmother

Too many of today's children have straight teeth and crooked morals.  Unknown high school principal

Mother Nature is providential.  She gives us twelve years to develop a love for our children before turning them into teenagers.  William Galvin

The best substitute for experience is being sixteen.  Raymond Duncan

Adolescence is a period of rapid changes.  Between the ages of 12 and 17, for example, a parent ages as much as 20 years.  Author Unknown

When I was a boy of fourteen, my father was so ignorant I could hardly stand to have the old man around.  But when I got to be twenty-one, I was astonished at how much he had learned in seven years.  Mark Twain, "Old Times on the Mississippi" Atlantic Monthly, 1874

Teenagers complain there's nothing to do, then stay out all night doing it.  Bob Phillips

The average income of the modern teenager is about 2 a.m.  Author Unknown

Telling a teenager the facts of life is like giving a fish a bath.  Arnold H. Glasow

It's difficult to decide whether growing pains are something teenagers have - or are.  Author Unknown

There is nothing wrong with today's teenager that twenty years won't cure.  Author Unknown

I tell my child, if I seem obsessed to always know where you've been, it is because my DNA will be found at the scene.  Robert Brault, www.robertbrault.com

A boy becomes an adult three years before his parents think he does, and about two years after he thinks he does.  Lewis B. Hershey, News summaries, 31 December 1951

You can tell a child is growing up when he stops asking where he came from and starts refusing to tell where he is going.  Author Unknown

At fourteen you don't need sickness or death for tragedy.  Jessamyn West

New Year--Please No New Trouble!

One thing that has strengthened the relationship between my formerly troubled daughter and me is a regular Sunday brunch together. No matter what, we clear time on our calendars to spend time together. It doesn’t matter if we’re super tired, have a cold, have PMS, or anything else, we make it happen. I’m very proud to say that my daughter initiated this practice, and it has been going strong for several months. She adamantly tells her friends and roommates not to bother her because she’s with her “mommy.” You have no idea how much I love this.

Our time together has morphed from a simple plate of pancakes with a little light conversation to spending hours together—talking, laughing, really getting to know each other. She tells me about “real” things going on in her life, in her mind, and in her heart. The way she’s conducting her life on her own is something for me to be proud of, and I frequently hear my thoughts and philosophy coming out of her mouth. She tells me she’s lucky to have had life training from me because she’s finally putting it to use and it works.

Yesterday was our first Sunday brunch of 2011, and of course the topic of changes and resolutions came up. I don’t need to do much talking, Sunday brunches are her forum for expressing herself. As long as I don’t chime in too much, she tells me everything. I’m so proud of her aspirations for the new year; for one thing, she plans to stay out of trouble. The trouble in 2010—tickets, accidents, fines, car repairs, etc. cost her more than she earned. She owes me over a grand, so she certainly feels it. She has learned not only the value of a dollar, but how hard it is to earn that dollar. She works hard, and that includes the getting up, getting dressed, getting to the office, getting through the day with a good attitude even if she’s in a foul mood, and making a positive impression. After all, she must keep this job—it pays for her past indiscretions and will allow her to continue to be self-reliant. She has also realized that being in trouble costs her her self-respect and dignity.

She is now looking into colleges, which makes my heart skip a beat. She has a distinct plan, and I’m very proud of her for that. Though I’m an educated person, she doesn’t want to necessarily follow my path or that of her sister. She will become an educated person, though, and understands that going to college is much more than just attending a bunch of classes.

She has her own road to travel, and she’s thought it through and I respect that. I have learned that each person is different and I can’t make her be who I think she should be, I have to embrace who she is. Since I’ve been able to do that and look at her without a critical eye, I’ve found that I have a very special daughter, with her own gifts and her own struggles. We are strong women in our family, and if I let her be herself, she can be strong, too. Maybe her life of being a follower is behind her and she ready to lead a better existence, beginning in 2011.