Letters to My Daughters: Battlefields

To Josie

Girl, you and I are gonna do battle. I can feel it.

Even now, we go through our ups and downs. There are moments when you completely infuriate me. To the point where all I can do is stare at you in disappointed shock and anger. You seem to know exactly which buttons to push; the exact, specific things that will make my blood boil, then you do them all in a row, looking me right in the eye the entire time.

Then, in the very next moment, right when I cannot stand another second of it, your little face crumbles into a horrifically sad, devastated, defeated mess. Your mouth turns down into that classic sad pout, the same one you got when you were teeny:

                     but i hate my monkey pajamas

Then your cheeks go bright red, gigantic, gigantic tears well up in your eyes and you begin to cry in what is almost slow-motion. Your face shows what could be a hundred different emotions -- all of them intense -- but I always interpret it as extreme regret and compunction for your bad behavior. I don't think you are necessarily old enough yet to have your conscience tugging at you when you misbehave, but I think it truly makes you feel viscerally bad to be that naughty. Like, you can't control it in the moment, but immediately afterward, you are absolutely crushed. Today, this happened, and you actually said to me, "Mommy, don't want to be sad, want to be happy???" through hot tears as you buried your face in my arm. I think I actually heard my heart crack in half.

The funny thing is, I see so much of myself in you sometimes. I pull some of the same crap on myself sometimes, doing something I know is not the right choice, but I do it anyway and instantaeously I feel wretched. If I were three years old, I can see myself responding to it exactly the same way you do. Like the time I was so mad about something I bashed a large metal spoon on top of the microwave? You know, repeatedly? Like, not reeeeally in control? And subsequently felt insanely ashamed when I realized that not only did I make a fool of myself in front of Daddy (well, he wisely stayed in the next room), but also I had foolishly broken a perfectly good microwave. And bent an otherwise perfectly straight spoon. I remember I just wanted to be invisible in that moment. But if I had been three, I think I would have reacted just the way you do.

I am seeing some progress in the way we relate to each other. This time last year, you were beginning to challenge me and, dear sweet daughter, YOU DID NOT CARE. You wanted what you wanted and I could be on fire and you wouldn't even look up. Now, however, I see you looking to me for guidance when you are frustrated, angry or sad. It's not Caroline-style, crying dramatically and whining, "Moommmmmeeeee;" it's sometimes so subtle that if I wasn't paying attention, I would miss it. It's a quick micro-glance, or you turning your body towards mine when in the midst of a fit. Sometimes you even mouth the word 'mommy' while struggling to stop your tears. Like you said, you want to be happy, and you know that I can help you, but boy is it hard to ask.

But I hope this trend of progress continues and becomes more fluid as you get older. I have to do everything I can to keep us connected, because you tend to withdraw in difficult situations. You are a little girl; you need your mommy and daddy. That's what we are here for. You and I will do battle, yes; but I hope you will come to realize that you and I will never be at war. You are my little girl, and I will always want happiness for you, and will do my absolute best to make that happen. I love you!