When our kids are little, they express their love for us in such sweet and weird ways. They draw us unusual scribbly messes that we tack up proudly on the fridge. They write us notes with misspelled words that we dare not throw away. Free of the pressures of society to conform and be cool, little kids are completely free to tell us how they feel.
When ER was little, she loved to pick me the weird white weed flowers that look beautiful but smell like armpits. I’ve done a mild amount of research to determine that these white flowers are attached to wild Texas onions, so that explains the armpit smell. Either way, I loved it when she would run up to me and hand me her proclamation of love via wild onion flower.
Now that ER is 15, the proclamations of love are less frequent. I often tell ER that she’s trying on her sassy suit, and while we both know it’s completely normal, I don’t always like watching it happen. We have heated mother-daughter arguments that are the equivalent of holding our breath until both of us turn blue. There’s a lot of exasperation and eye rolling on ER’s side, and threatening to take away ER’s phone on my side.
I know the trying on of the sassy suit is normal because when my stepchildren were in high school, I vented to a coworker about my stepson having an attitude with me when my colleague who was about ten years my senior said, “God makes our children a-holes when they’re in high school so when it’s time for them to leave, we’re ready.” I thought it was hilarious at the time, but she was completely right. These kids have to torture us much like we tortured our parents so that when they go out on their own, they are ready and so are we.
Despite our difficult arguments, I’ve been feeling pre-empty nest sadness about ER, as she’s about to start to learn how to drive and she’s so much taller than me now and she’s starting to think about college and WHY IS THIS HAPPENING SO FAST? This morning, I went inside her room where she was sleeping past noon, and just like when she was an infant and a toddler and in elementary school and in middle school, I watched for the rise and fall of her chest as she slept, thankful for her health and her messy room and her dreams and her strong opinions. I took a minute to pray for her happiness, that her anxiety about school and friends is eased, and that she embraces each lesson that life gives her even when the lessons are difficult.
Last week we were in the car, and we’d gotten through another difficult mother daughter argument where I was feeling particularly exasperated, when ER said, “Remember when I used to pick those white flowers for you? I haven’t seen those in a long time, but I wish I could give one to you now.”
And poof, the tension was gone. Argument over. Back on track.
The next day, after another long rainstorm, the universe gifted our neighborhood with plenty of white onion flowers, so on the way home from yoga, I pulled over and picked one and brought it home for ER. It serves as a reminder that while life’s milestones fly by so quickly, and while the teen years can be challenging, depending on how we look at it, it’s all a thing of beauty.
