At this time

So my oldest daughter is almost fifteen - 30 days away to be exact.  She has always been a strong willed child.  She pushed up and stood on my thighs when she was four months old.  On her eleven month birthday (which we no longer celebrate, by the way) she climbed out of her crib and walked to the edge of the staircase.  A friend came to stay with us when she was two or three and a couple days after he left, I got my first ever Amazon book delivered to our door.  A thank you gift I guessed.  When I opened it, I was humiliated.  ”How to Raise Your Spirited Child”.  It was somehow a nod to the fact that we were not doing it right.  Make no mistake, we were doing our best.

The hardest part about raising this child is that her soul is my soul’s carbon copy.  We are the same.  The need to have things done our own way.  Our guts revolt when we are told what to do.  We are really smart and right most of the time which makes it near impossible to admit when wrong.

Raising this child has been a challenge.  I probably should have read the book when it arrived on my doorstep but then that would be admiting that I was somehow wrong. I would have to listen as I was told what to do. 

While ages 3-5 were really hard, (I wondered almost every other day if I should be getting her some professional help), we got through it.  We got through Kindergarten.  We got through first grade (the year her teacher said that she was awesome in class and I should be grateful that she chose to act out at home instead of the classroom.  Somehow I wasn’t entitled to good behavior in both locations.  And while logically I agreed that behaving in public had it’s merit, I resented that it didn’t happen with her time with me.)  By second grade we hit our stride.  She stopped having as many fits.  I had developed a discriminating taste for $5 Chardonnay.  By 4th grade, she tested GATE, which others seemed to think this was a blessing  I, however, went to a presentation that outlined her GATE personality flaws via Power Point, and I knew I was sunk.

Throughout all of it, I told myself on a daily basis, what everybody else said all of her life - she was so advanced.  That she was probably advanced with the teenage attitude.  That she had it early and would outgrow it early and while everyone else was scrambling around with their own sassypants, we would have come through to the other side.

Although that belief was necessary in order to get through some dark hours, it was horribly flawed.  Because when she was twelve, I believed the attitude could not get any worse.  And while this is very difficult to admit, I WAS VERY VERY WRONG!  Thirteen was appalling and fourteen even worse.  Believe me, I learned my lesson.  I am going into fifteen knowing anything is possible.

I am also going into fifteen well aware that my examples are stronger than my words. That she can press my buttons like no other and how I deal with it is how she will deal with it when it is her turn.

The bar has also been raised - the real issues are on the table.  All the showdowns insisting that workbook sheets are completed mean nothing now that we are talking about driving. drinking. drugs. boys. parties. colleges.  Bad choices when one is five usually result in a time out.  Bad choices when one is fifteen can be life changing.

That is all background by the way.  My real point is about a party I went to last night. A party I was looking forward to for several reasons.  First, the general escape for the evening for a girl’s night out is always the best.  Bonus! The “girls” are amazing, smart, inspiring women with whom I do occasional work collaborations and they always leave me thinking, writing, moving forward.

And it was exactly as I thought it was going to be.  Great house.  Delicous food.  Fun banter. Exciting insights.  Lots of wine.  A few surprise revelations.

And lots of wine.

When my oldest was three, I got a call on a Saturday morning asking if I could come pick up my neighbor and friend.  She was in jail in Santa Ana.  She had been involved in a “single car” car accident the night before and had been booked with a DUI and spent the night in the big house.  I went to get her and when I arrived, she looked worse than a hangover and night on a cot.  I drove her straight to the emergency room.  She had a lacerated liver - had it been a half centimeter deeper, she would have died the night before without medical treatment.  Bad things happen to good people.  Good people make bad choices.

Back to last night - festive mood.  Lots of wine.  I wasn’t driving so I had my fill.

Towards the end of the evening it became quite obvious that someone else had had her fill as well.  She talked alot.  Repeated herself.  Got emotional.  You know the signs. When it became time to leave the table, she stumbled.  Had a hard time standing in one place.  However, she was able to find her car keys.  And she was ready to leave.

There were five of us that remained and each of us knew that this was not a good idea.  That she had no business on the road.  But none of our attempts to keep her in the house a little longer worked.  She did not want more coffee.  She didn’t want to call and check in with her husband.  And no one had the guts to go for the keys.  I didn’t have the guts to go for the keys.

Truthfully, I don’t know her that well.  The most I had spoken to her one on one was last night.  I think she is great but I don’t know her family, her habits, her lifestyle.  I don’t really know anything about her.  So is that enough to let me of the hook?  If it was, it probably wouldn’t have taken be two hours to go to sleep last night.  I wouldn’t be writing about it now.

And of course, what is so in my face, is that I behaved exactly opposite of what I am telling my teenager is the right way to handle situations.  Had the story been of my daughter and one of her aquaintances, I would have been harsh about her letting the person drive away.  

And yet, there this woman went.

So I write, not with answers, or really questions.  More with just awareness.  Awareness that good people make bad choices.  And well meaning people are sometimes too weak to make their intentions really count.  I would like to think that if faced with the same situation again, I would put the awkardness aside and make sure that everyone’s safety was not jeapardized.  

And I have a more honest outlook about the perfect way I want my daughter to be, to act, to live.  I still want that.  But I understand better today than I did yesterday, just how hard that is.  And that sometimes being perfect, as much as you want to be, just isn’t what happens.  And that even we moms are still learning how to make the right choices.