First, Lord: No tattoos. May neither Chinese symbol for truth nor Winnie-the-Pooh holding the FSU logo stain her tender haunches. You must ask permission if you are under 18 and you can not have more than I do!
May she be Beautiful but not Damaged, for it’s the Damage that draws the creepy soccer coach’s eye, not the Bea .... uty. And may you both know the importance of inner beauty.
When the Crystal Meth is offered, May she remember the parents who cut her grapes in half. And stick with Beer. Or how about not even hang out with the kids that do Crystal Meth and drink beer, ok?
Guide her, protect her: When crossing the street, stepping onto boats, swimming in the ocean, swimming in pools, walking near pools, standing on the subway platform, crossing 86th Street, stepping off of boats, using mall restrooms, getting on and off escalators, driving on country roads while arguing, leaning on large windows, walking in parking lots, riding Ferris wheels, roller-coasters, log flumes, or anything called “Hell Drop,” “Tower of Torture,” or “The Death Spiral Rock ‘N Zero G Roll featuring Aerosmith,” and standing on any kind of balcony ever, anywhere, at any age. Have fun BUT always be safe!
Lead her away from Acting but not all the way to Finance. Something where she can make her own hours but still feel intellectually fulfilled and get outside sometimes And not have to wear high heels. Actually, take the heels... and make sure to share them with me :o) What would that be, Lord? Architecture? Midwifery? Golf course design? I’m asking You, because if I knew, I’d be doing it, too, dammit.
May she play the Drums to the fiery rhythm of her Own Heart with the sinewy strength of her Own Arms, so she need Not Lie With Drummers. or piano... or saxophone......
Grant her a Rough Patch from twelve to seventeen. Let her draw horses and be interested in Barbies for much too long, For childhood is short – a Tiger Flower blooming Magenta for one day – And adulthood is long and dry-humping in cars will wait. Haha!! But don't be the dorky 7th grader that still talks to her dolls.
O Lord, break the Internet forever, That she may be spared the misspelled invective of her peers And the online marketing campaign for Rape Hostel V: Girls Just Wanna Get Stabbed. And when they do discover the Internet, let's just hope they forgive me for my blog!
And when she one day turns on me and calls me a "bitch" in front of Hollister, Give me the strength, Lord, to yank her directly into a cab in front of her friends, For I will not have that Shit. I will not have it. Please, please, PLEASE don't be Hollister girls!
And should she choose to be a Mother one day, be my eyes, Lord, that I may see her, lying on a blanket on the floor at 4:50 A.M., all-at-once exhausted, bored, and in love with the little creature whose poop is leaking up its back. Amen! It doesn't get any better :o)
“My mother did this for me once,” she will realize as she cleans feces off her baby’s neck. “My mother did this for me.” And the delayed gratitude will wash over her as it does each generation and she will make a Mental Note to call me. And she will forget. But I’ll know, because I peeped it with Your God eyes. Of course they will forget... They are in fact, MY daughters! Actually, I think I forgot to make that call too... Mom, thank you for raising me to be the woman that I am. They say that mothering doesn't come with an instruction manual, but having you to guide me has made it a little easier! Thank you for always telling me, "this too shall pass." Thank you for stepping in to give Mike and me a break every now and then. Thank you for taking my side when people say offensive things to me about my kids or my parenting ways... or accuse my daughter of drawing hearts on chairs. Thank you for being my mom and for being Jaden and Taylor's grandma. We all love you and appreciate all that you have done for us!
|Me, Taylor, Mom, and Jaden - Mother's Day 2010|
|Gramma Pat and Me - My Wedding, 2006|