We were driving on our annual trip South. Grooving to iTunes Tango, boys watching the 2nd of many movies on the minivan DVD player. My Ladybug sitting in the passenger seat talking and talking and talking. She is telling me about what happened yesterday, what she feels about whichever topic floats into her brain. These are special moments that we share. I treasure them just as much as I treasure the times I sit in the passenger's seat and tell my mother what happened yesterday or how I feel about whatever thought floats through my brain. Even as a 40-year old, those are special moments. (However, instead of listening to Tango, it would be Broadway Show Tunes for that is part of my mother’s soul.)
I let Ladybug talk as my mother let me. I know Ladybug wants to share her soul with me and by listening, I learn even more about her. She is in (from what I remember) an awkward transition time – no longer a kid but not quite a woman yet. She wants to be both but is not entirely comfortable with either role. However this ‘phase’ (which clinicians and doctors and esteemed academicians refer to as puberty, but I, the Minivan Philosopher, refer to as “OMG, OMG, my va-jay-jay kweefed!”) is temporary. Soon, in what feels like a blink of an eye to me, she will shed the trappings of childhood and fill out her womanly curves. It will feel more natural to her.
Have I adequately prepared her for womanhood? Have my theories and philosophies about raising her proven to be true? Will she thank me when she’s older or spend her life savings on therapy complaining about me?
From what I can tell so far (and we’ve not even made it out of Missouri yet on our trip), I think I’m on the right track. She’s a pretty amazing stuck-in-the-middle-of-all-this-physical-and-emotional-change person. I feel in my heart she’s going to be phenomenal!
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