George & 2 Oldest Daughters

George & 2 Oldest Daughters
George, Oldest Daughter, and Me, 2nd Daughter 1968.

Caroline and Oldest Daughter

Caroline and Oldest Daughter
Caroline and Oldest Daughter in Photo Booth 1964

Boy George

Boy George
George and younger sister in 1940's

George and his Oldest Daughter

George and his Oldest Daughter
George and His Oldest Daughter 1964 in Photo Booth

Saturday, February 13, 2010

Memories of a Daughter

Well, it is Saturday, and I have been very productive. I picked up the paint for my bedroom (fresh clay from Benjamin Moore), did my marketing for the weekend, and took my youngest daughter to her favorite Thai restaurant. It is amazing to watch your mini-me's turn into the adults they are destined to become. The epiphany that your mom and dad also went through this with you at some point in your own growth can make one feel aged, since it was only yesterday you were your child's age, right?

I look at photos of my parents, then myself, then my daughters and son. I am reminded of Doris Day's hit Que Sera Sera. "When I was just a little girl, I asked my mother, what lies ahead...will I be pretty, will I be rich...?" Yes, whatever will be, will be. That is the hardest part of growing up, what IS going to be? I answer questions about that all the time with my children. Just as George and my mother, Caroline, answered, and still do, with me. I am still their daughter, and my children will always look to me (I hope) for answers, and sound advice. Or, to even just be a sounding board for their thoughts and emotions.

I remember going into labor with my oldest, not knowing the gender, and my mother, Caroline came in to soothe me. I looked at her, all modesty gone with the splitting pain, and asked her if she was crazy to have gone through this five times. Her answer was that we were worth it. That is the truth. The kids are worth it. No matter the anger or the frustration or sadness we feel as a result of the kids' actions, the joy in their coming out as their own individual with so much to offer the world, is the reward.

George's mother used to talk about her Georgie that wore a bright red hat so that as he wandered around the farm, they knew where he was at all times. His stories of trying to fly by putting wings on the wagon, hauling it up the roof of the butcher shed, and then landing in the blackberry bushes....we are lucky we survive childhood at all.

This daughter remembers laughter at stories, eating at restaurants and mixing up the soda flavors and serving them to dad, who said "wow, that's interesting" and never made you feel stupid for trying to pull one over on him. Mom singing in her operatic voice to different arias, and then transitioning to Gershwin or Streisand without any apparent effort. I remember the Girl Scouts, PTA haunted houses, elaborate costumes for Halloween, and playing softball. Dad insisted we wear long pants so that when we slid, our legs were not scarred, and I learned to hold dirt in my fists to keep my hands closed sliding under a tag. Encouragement and love abounded.

Thanks Mom and Dad. I hope my kids can all say the same one day.

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