Dear Daughter,
Thank you for helping me be brave. You’ve taught me a lot about being a woman in your short five years of life. You’ve inspired me more than you’ll ever know. And overall, daughter, you’ve made me want to be better because I know that you’re watching my every move, listening to my every word, and learning from me as your mother. So, I better get this right.
Thank you for helping me find my genuine voice—and use it. I never would have thought that my daughter, as young as a little 18-month-old could inspire me. But you sure did. Your ‘in-your-face’ personality made me realize I should never hide my feelings. You were an emotional little bugger. If you were happy, everyone knew it. If you were upset, everyone heard it. And if you felt sad for someone else in the family, everyone saw it on your face. You made me learn something important, it’s okay to let people know you’re ticked off, elated, or just plain sad.
Before having you, I always tried to mask those big feelings I had. I felt I always had to be the strong one, in control and poised. But what was I teaching you and your big brother if I was never able to crumble in front of you? Perfectionism. And that’s no way to live, trying to be perfect just to please others. No way. So, now, I’m just a hot mess mom instead. But I think that by being imperfect, I will teach you much more than being the one who always seems to have it together.
When you started preschool, I made the wise decision to stop fighting you on what to wear. You were confident in your choices and what felt good on your body. Why would I fight that? One day, you slipped on a new nightgown to wear to school.
“Honey,” I said, “that’s not a dress, it’s pajamas.”
“No, they’re not,” you said.
“Ok. Wear what you want,” I said.
You strutted into that school with your head high, impressed by your new “dress.” But the second we got to your locker, a friend walked right up to you and said, “Why are you wearing pajamas today?”
Instead of bowing your head, you looked that little girl straight in the eyes, smiled, and said, “It’s a dress.”
In that moment, your confidence became contagious and I was able to steal some it. Since then, I’ve gained a few pounds {I blame midlife, not pizza} and my jeans felt a little too tight. But instead of going on some lame crash diet so I could squeeze back into them, I did something I think you would do. I just went to the store and bought bigger jeans. Mind-blowing, I know.
You see, daughter, you’ve taught me that life is too short not to eat the pizza or roast the marshmallow by the bonfire. Sure, there are days, I wish my thighs weren’t as lumpy. But for the most part, I’ve learned to love what my body can do—not focus just on what it looks like. Because I know you’re watching me just as much as I’m watching you.
Overall, you’ve taught me to be me—unapologetically me. My body, my opinions, my voice, my desires, my dreams are all worthy. Just like yours. I couldn’t be happier that the older you get, the more we get to applaud each other together. We’ll both continue to grow and conquer life. And because of you, I won’t be the only one doing the teaching—because I know that you’re teaching me too.
I love you,
Mom
