Almost sixteen years ago, one of the best moments of my life occurred: my daughter was born. I was twenty-one years old and in my last semester of college. Her due date was February 21, but my pregnancy was making me sick. Not just nauseous but very, very sick. Rather than continue in the risk, our doctor performed a c-section, and the result was the most beautiful baby I had ever seen and have yet ever to meet.
That beautiful baby grew into a cute toddler and has now returned to beauty both in her physical appearance as well as in her personality. I could not have ever imagined that being mom to this person would bring me such joy. Watching her on stage last month took my breath away. On closing night, I cried because it was the last performance of her breath-taking solo. Listening to her talk about her passions, joy, and heartaches make me proud to have been a small part of her life. I know that God has great things in store for her, and I am so thankful that He chose me to be her mom. Although I hold her loosely in my hands knowing that she is simply on loan to me until she has her own wings to fly, I count each day a blessing until she moves on from us.
By the way, two years suddenly feels like a very, very short amount of time when I am faced with the reality of June 2014 – graduation day.
Last night I encountered a new experience. I was exhausted – not new. But Beth needed some things for a dinner party she is attending on Saturday – also not new. I sat in the car while she shopped at the thrift store (also not new) and found some perfect items for her costume. It got cold in the car, and I am not really pro-running of the car when I am just sitting in it. I went into the store just in time to pay for her things. And that is when it happened – the boy (yes, boy) at the counter hit on my daughter!
The story: I commented to my daughter about the “uniqueness” of the purse she bought and somehow the cashier chimed into our conversation. I will relay it to the best of my memory (forgive me, daughter, for any creative liberties I take).
He: Oh, are these for some kind of party or something?
She: Yeah…it’s for a murder mystery dinner party. My character is an author.
He: My friends never do anything fun like that.
She: Oh, it’s my speech team. The coach is having all of the captains over…and the drama club officers.
He: My school never does anything like that. What school do you go to?
She: Fridley. *insert coy smile and higher pitched voice*
He: Oh. I go to Park Center – just up the road here.
She: Oh. *insert giggle here*
While this conversation was going on, I was going through the motions of paying for the stuff and trying not to laugh. When we got outside, I said to my daughter, “The awkward moment when you realize a boy is hitting on my daughter…and she likes it.” She was a bit indignant, and then she said something about this event ending up in the blog.
Well, dear, here it is. I know that you are beautiful, inside and out, but I do not know that I am ready to witness these events!