A Love Letter (kinda) to Mabyl

Everyone seems to be searching for the unicorn of a person who can "handle them at their worst" at the benefit of "having them at their best". To my fellow parents, I want to tell you, that person is already there, and its probably not your spouse. Its your kid.

Kids are terrible, selfish, rude, and demanding, yet sweet, loving, perfect humans who smell bad and sass you. If you think your ten year old is viciously unreasonable for not clearing the dinner table, remind yourself that this little person has seen you cry. You have broken down. You swore in front of or at them. You were overwhelmed, and unfairly grounded them over minutiae. Maybe you were stressed out. Maybe you had a bad day. You may have spanked or shouted at your child over something that didn't warrant it, unlike running toward the street, or touching a hot stove. You have broken promises. You are not the parent you SWORE you would be.

Even after all the tears, the fights, the annoyances- your kid wants you at the end of the day. I'm well into my 30s and I STILL want my Mommy sometimes.

The biggest gear shift in a parent-child relationship is to see each other as individuals, and to respect each other for who they were and who they are. If you love your children earnestly, it will shine thru- good days or bad. No one will ever know you as well as your child, because they see the real you.

And they love you anyway.


Over on Thought Catalog, an article popped up about "10 Things You Learn by Being Raised by a Strong Mother."  It was nice, but very saccharine. I don't doubt the author's experience, nor do I wish to take away from it. But, I couldn't help but think- what if that was written by my daughter?

I have always prided myself on being very real, honest, and open with her. I don't censor or sugarcoat myself.  I don't hide my feelings from her. I don't pretend everything is alright when it isn't to make her feel secure. Its disingenuous, and she is too smart for that.

So, with a gentle nod to the TC article, I give you:

Ten Things You Learn Being Raised by Mandy Jeanne, with Asides and Opinions.



1. Independence- and how it doesn't always work out

I am not now, nor have I ever been a vocal feminist. I'm also not hip to the extreme fundamentalist/religious bent of total submission to a husband. I believe in self-reliance, but I also believe in partnership.

My daughter was very wanted. She was a tried-for and had baby. But she's a child of divorce. And I didn't take introducing new people to her lightly. When things didn't work out, well, that's life. She was young. I was left with my own heartache, compounded by hers.  My heart always broke harder for her.

But I let her see my sadness. We were in this life together, for better or worse. I let her know it was OK to be sad, and it was OK that Mommy was sad. Life isn't a string of things that happen the way you plan. Maybe she learned this lesson early, but she learned it by my side. We picked up our pieces together.

2. Unconditional love- and not always smiling about it.

Of course you feel unconditional love for your child. Even Jeffrey Dahmer's father still loves him- and he ATE people. That doesn't mean you plaster a smile on your face, tie an apron around your waist, and cater to your kid's every whim.

Part of loving someone is saying NO. Teaching your child that the needs of a parent are secondary is a slippery slope. Reaching a balance for wanting better for your children and outright spoiling them is tricky. Sometimes it's easier to give in, but you need to be cautious, lest you set yourself up to be a doormat.

I have always been honest with my daughter. If I felt bad- if I had a rough day- I told her so. She would-and does- ask questions that are difficult to answer. She wants to know the motives and intentions behind other people's actions. She wants to know why.

I often cant craft a delicate response. I tell her: the world is full of people who say things to get things. People who lie, and pretend to be your friend. Life is hard sometimes, but beautiful, and sometimes it makes mommy cry, because one day you will be in the world by yourself.

But she knows that wherever I am is home. And home is a safe place. Unconditionally.


3.  Loving yourself- because not everyone will.

I was picked on in school quite a bit. I was chubby, awkward, weird- once I farted in class, and all the kids called me "Mandyfart "for the rest of the year. (Mabyl finds this particularly hilarious.)

I really struggled. In high school, I was well liked, but didn't quite fit the mold of the school I attended, or anything else for that matter.  I was strange, and I knew it. It was a difficult time.

My daughter has experienced some bullying, but I am slow to react. She's still too young for social media, and anything I've dealt with since 1st grade has been settled with a phone call.

Kids are jerks. They're mean, boorish, and arrogant. I've taught my daughter to disengage, but to stand up for herself. I get involved when I need to, but I  won't fight her battles for her. She needs to choose what she stands up for, and what to let go of. She is angry, but she meditates. She started doing that on her own.

I told her- Not everyone will "get" you, but that doesn't matter. If you are happy with yourself, you have figured out something most people never can.


4.  Being strong and soft- and learning how to navigate the world at seven.

I wasn't always around. I was married to her father for three years before we split, and another four before I could afford to divorce him. It wasn't easy. It was hard on both of us, even after he was no longer a part of her life. We had to figure out how to be us all the time- not just part time.

The article describes being scared by seeing her mother cry, but then being immediately comforted with a hug, and told everything will be fine.

I never did that. Mabyl saw the whole range of emotions. And I held her and said "No matter what, we'll be together." And so it was.  She never has said if she was frightened. But she knows I fought for her. To talk about those times now (as we sometimes do) I still find myself using language i shouldn't, or saying things a bit too frankly.

But you know what? That's her story- her life, and experience. I have no right to whitewash it, or take away from it. I fought hard and won for her. I'm soft forever because I will always carry her pain, regardless of her healing.

I'm proud. I'm sad, I'm happy, and I'm fucking proud. My girl is a warrior.


5. Not easy being a woman- or anyone else.

Yeah, this is true, its not easy being a woman. Or black. Or gay. Or Mexican. Or Muslim. Or Transgender. Or Poor. Or, you know, anyone, really.

I'll say it again, I'm not a vocal feminist. And I'll admit, there is a part of me that wants to escape to a mountain commune out West, and go off the grid, where we can farm our own food and sing Joni Mitchell songs all day. Buuuuuut......

In the meanwhile, to teach my daughter only one form of oppression is negligent. And to tell her she will be automatically dismissed due to her womanhood is bogus. So I teach her to speak, and to have a voice. I teach her to have an opinion, and I answer her questions- even the hard ones, like "Why is marijuana illegal?" openly and honestly. We discuss these issues. Her mind races for answers.

And do NOT get her started on Donald Trump.


6.Don't look back- except for when you need to learn from your past

Everyone has a past. Every parent has their glory days. Some of these stories you should save for when your child is older- like when you buy them their "First Beer Ever" on their 21st birthday.

But you and your child have a past as well. Every experience is unique.  I know- as a single mom, and speaking ONLY on my experience- I was not always a great mom.  I was often exhausted from working 2-3 jobs. I missed my daughter's first words, first steps- and so many countless other milestones, because I had to provide.

And I was so tired. So many days I would try to nap while she minded her own self- making her own snacks, and playing computer games while I caught up on the sleep I so desperately needed.  When it was time for me to go back to work, I would drop her back off with her grandmother. We did this for a long time.

I couldn't check homework.  I missed teacher conferences. I slept through her talent show because I misread the time and overslept. I disappointed her. I broke promises, and sometimes I snapped at her when I was overtired.  All she wanted was me, and I had almost nothing to give.

In the time I had alone I would sit in her room and cry.  Was I utterly failing her, or doing what had to be done?

She and I remember those times together now, and her experience is far different from mine. She remembers a mostly happy time, with lots of friends, and having her first sleepovers.  She recalls my absence as "Mom just working like always."

One day it may change. And I won't hide from her when she wants to talk about it.


7. Patience and faith- patience is a virtue, God is optional.

For the most part, I am very calm. I'm a little silly, but generally measured and responsible (...these days. mostly.)

Mabyl is impetuous. Demanding. Excitable. Intense. Intelligent. Witty. Gregarious. ....a little obnoxious. But, that's 10.

The article talks mainly on not enjoying instant gratification- well, we got that on lock. I treat my daughter like a queen when I can, but she is far from spoiled. Its common for her to hear things such as, "You may not have a year membership on <insert internet game of the day>. I have to pay my car insurance."

She'll frown, but she understands. A big splurge is when we take the family to the water park, or a movie. Every year she asks to go on vacation. She wants to see the ocean. (She also wants to visit the memorial of the Edmund Fitzgerald- but that's a story for another time.) Every year I can't take her. She is patient. She understands. But it hurts us both.

We talk about God a lot. I've never been religious, but grew up in a Christian Scientist Church, and mostly attended Catholic school. She has had questions I've answered honestly, without bias, and encouraged her to go to church with her grandmothers.  She was five the first time she went. When she came home, I excitedly asked, "Mabyl, how was church?"

She said, "Mom, I think you're going to hell."

In her short decade of existence she has wavered between being a BFF of Jesus, to declaring she's a staunch atheist.  I tell her its OK to believe a little of both. I've told her, if Jesus was really the person the Bible says he was, then he was a great person, and we should all strive to be like him. I tell her there is value in every religion, but it can be tricky. I tell her what I feel is true: There are a great many paths in the world, and you have to make your own sense of it all. The odds of a single religion "getting it right" are slim, but who knows? I tell her its pompous and foolish to insist you have all the answers, and the smartest thing you can ever say is "I don't know."

8. Creating your own happiness- and owning your life.

One thing I am always thankful for is knowing Mabyl has seen me fail. She has been there when I've not gotten my dream job, or gotten fired, or got a speeding ticket, or taken care of me when I'm sick.  She asks me what is wrong, and I tell her (sparing unnecessary details).

We are of a similar mind. And I think maybe allowing her to share in my emotional life has helped her feel comfortable sharing with me.

We are happiest in our own quiet time- with plenty of candy and horror flicks. We make irreverent jokes which are funny to no one else.  I tell her: "Go make yourself look human, we have to leave in ten minutes!"

To which she'll retort: "I can't take you seriously when your hair looks like that."

I'll huff and puff, but the girl is right. My hair is a damn mess- and I just brushed it! I can hear her giggling as I curse a blue streak in front of the mirror, trying to make MYSELF look human.

She doesn't except perfection from me, and I don't demand it of her. We give each other space to grow, stumble, and learn. It has made us who we are.

9. Knowing more love than your child- and how your kids grow you up.

If you knew me ~15 years ago, and suggested in any way I may someday have children, I likely would have thrown something at you... like my car.  Yet here I am today.

Being pregnant was a strange experience. I hated it. I was exhausted, but I did my best to keep in shape. I did yoga twice a day (which became rather unsightly as time passed), I walked a mile to work and back each day (uphill in the snow both ways), and took my dog on many, many walks. I ate well (never mind the daily Take 5 candy bar) and I smeared hundreds of dollars worth of cocoa butter on my rapidly expanding belly.

None of this mattered, of course. By the time I was five months along, I looked twelve months overdue. My skin stretched and tore- seemingly overnight- resembling what I can only describe as wildfire all across my stomach. I ballooned to a G cup, which had to be purchased at a specialty bra supply for around $100. I was weighing in at 215- a far cry from the rough 140 I'd been happily accustomed to.

Then, this kid was 2 weeks past due. I went through some midwives who implored me to continue to wait, because of Gaia, or something. And it was late July, 100° in the shade with 2X the humidity, so I was ready to have this baby on my own. 36 hours of hard labor, hemorrhaging, and almost no medication (Also, because Gaia) I heard her scream, and I was overcome with a great wave of emotions and relief.

Mabyl loves me to tell her this part: when she was handed to me, wrapped in a blanket, pink, and wrinkled, I looked into her eyes for a few moments- and I felt as though we had known each other a long time before.  I don't know that anyone plans their first words to their children, I sure didn't- but what I did say was: "Welcome to the world baby girl. I'm that voice you've been hearing for the past nine months."

I wanted and planned for her. She was no happy accident. She was born on purpose- and I remind her of that. Sometimes when she says things like "I hate math and I wish I was never born!"  Alas...

I did not have any idea what being a parent- a mother- really meant. Yes I struggled and sacrificed- I still do. But my daughter "grew me up" as she herself grew. It was easier over time to not covet the free time enjoyed by my unattached friends. And learning to enjoy my private time when I did have it was a brand new lesson in a brand of haunting guilt only parents can understand.

I learn from her every day. How to be not just a better mother, but how to be HER mother.


10. Learning how to be a good mom- and hoping your kids learn from your mistakes.

If and when Mabyl ever has her own children, I will move far, far away, and send cards on birthdays and Christmas.

No. I won't. But I will encourage her not to read too many books, or blogs about how to be a perfect parent. I'll tell her what I know, but to take it with a grain of salt- only she can choose what is right for her, and I'll support her, just as I always have.

People are often so afraid of becoming too much like their own parents to understand its all one big guessing game. It takes a long time to see a finished product- and even then its never truly finished. Kinda like how you never stop being a parent. You evolve. Your child sets the pace, and you move on with the rest of your life.

In many (some quite unexpected) ways, I've become like my own parents.  I think many of us do, and will, as we absorb the good and the bad.  My hope is that Mabyl will remember how I was always honest with her- how I sometimes said, "I don't know what I'm doing!", and how I loved her above all else- fiercely, though it may have been raw at times.

If she remembers that, if she lives her own, happy life, full of successes that are meaningful to her, I will be grateful.  She was never mine, only mine to guide.  And, yes, I have told her this, too.