I set myself up. I totally underestimated the power of karma. I was blinded by pride.
A few weeks back, Diva Child’s school hosted a Writing Paw-looza event. I was excited. Writing was my “thing”. What if she inherited my love for it?
It was a night when my husband and I had to split shifts…… he went to our son’s basketball game…..I headed to the “Paw-looza”. It was a no brainer. Writing was my department. I had this! Visions ran through my head at the importance this night held. It took me 25 years to accept writing as a pivotal part in my life……what if she has a talent and she pursues it at an early age?
I held her hand as we walked into her class. I sat in her tiny chair eager to see her writing. There in front of me was a hand decorated portfolio, showcasing her name and a hand drawn little girl with a bow in her hair. My heart melted. My smile spread from ear to ear as I read her “bio” page. I know, I was putting a lot on an 8 year olds performance, but as parents….. we do this. We grasp similarities we have with our children and try to nurture them with hopes that they will be better.
Backseat…..Party of 1!
As I opened the folder, my daughter was smiling and her eyes were glowing with excitement. I started to read the first story, titled Surprise Birthday. By the 2nd sentence I realized this was a work of fiction. By the 4th sentence, I gathered this story was how she fictionally aided in throwing her dad a party. By the end of the story, I felt slighted…….I was not mentioned in this story at all. It was just Dad thisand Dad that. I took the high road though……I smiled at my daughter, commented on how great it was, then turned to the next story.
Story #2 was titled Dad……..Huh? What?!
In one fell swoop, my bubble burst. Don’t misunderstand……her stories were great. They were filled with love, imagination and sang with her own personal writing style. She did take after me……..but you see, between the two of us…..I was the only one who saw this.
I wanted to crawl into a corner and lick my wounds. I tucked my emotions away and resisted the urge to ask where my story was. I gave birth to her, so doesn’t that deserve a small cameo?
We headed home that night and I relayed the events to my husband. He chuckled. A single chuckle……as if he already knew this. Have I been in the backseat this whole time without realizing it? Either way, I don’t like it. There is no leg room and I feel claustrophobic. Should I have fought harder to get my front seat status? Did my husband call “Shotgun!” and I did not hear him?
This is selfish of me, I know. Maybe this stems from being an only child …….Maybe this is karma kicking my ass all for all the things I put my mother through.
My mom took a backseat for me many years ago. I failed to see this when I was younger. My mom was always available for me and I pushed that away, especially in my teen years. I could never admit that I needed her just as much as I needed my dad.
I admit, that I worshipped my dad. I remember his hugs encircling me and ensuring safety. I also fondly recall our nighttime prayers. And our movie dates…..enjoying each other’s company while gorging on popcorn. On the flip side, he was the only one who could gut me with a look, allowing all my indiscretions to flow out for the world to see. I always strived for his approval.
I realize now that Diva Child sees a hero in her Daddy….. Just like I see a hero in mine.
Use Caution Up Ahead
It’s going to be a bumpy ride with this one. It is not easy relinquishing my bond with her. She’s my mini-me. Will I receive a claim ticket to retrieve the mother/daughter bond at a later date? Will I be given body armor to protect my heart during those teen age years? And who will answer me when I ask, “Are we there yet?!” The backseat is awfully lonely.
I have resigned to let her Dad take the lead for a bit. I have buckled up and will try to get comfortable. I don’t even mind that my view is somewhat limited. Maybe then, I won’t see those teen years coming at us head on. I will be ready for them though…….with open arms and love.