School has been in session for exactly one week and I already have homework. Today’s assignment: describe Maisy in “one million words or less.” It was close but I got it all in the form of this open letter.You know I am a lot better at communicating my feelings in writing than in speaking….if you can call what we do most days “speaking.”
First, I want to apologize for a couple of things.
1. I am sorry that you got my horrible vision. I know you think glasses make a statement but trust me so does LASIK–one day you will understand.
2. I am sorry about our near daily screaming matches. You really are a great kid, I just wish you could be a little less infuriating. You would be shocked at what an eye roll plus foot stomp plus “What—-Ever!” does to a normally patient person’s patience.
3. I am sorry I lied about being patient. That is a trait you definitely got from your dad.
In fact, your patience (with tasks not people) is one of many things I admire about you. You could stand to be more patient with your six-year-old sister–she is your twin only seven years younger. Hadley only wants you to be nice to her. No, locking her out of your room and ignoring her screams is not nice.
Yes, I said “admire.” And boy do I.
I love “Marry Me” by Train. That song always makes me think of how lucky I was to meet your Dad. Hearing you singing it while he accompanied you on the guitar brought tears to my eyes.
Many times, I have stopped in my tracks with chills up my spine when the sounds of your cello drifted up stairs. More than once I have found myself saying Wow. I helped make that kid?
As you know, along with patience, musical skill is something I have a paucity of. Don’t get me wrong, I know that my genetic transfer contributed something other than bad vision.
You write like a seasoned New York Times bestselling author. Even now—at thirteen. I wish, when I was your age, I had the fortitude to sit down and write like you do. Believe it or not, reading what you write inspires me to write. And, nothing makes my heart fuller than hearing you laugh out loud at my blog.
Speaking of that. I know you don’t exactly love the cameo appearances you make but people certainly seem to enjoy reading about you. I guess we are not the only mother-teenage daughter pair having “issues” at times.
I only recently learned to laugh more at the craziness in our lives instead of stressing about it. I want you to do that too.
You have this unbelievable ability to be disciplined. Just, remember, you are a kid. Don’t take life so seriously. Believe me, when you are 39 like me (OK, lie–42) you will have plenty of stuff to fret about.
Regarding your tenacity–I wish I had a tenth of that. When you set your mind to something, you do it and do it well. Period. If I applied your attitude to my charts, I would never, ever have to do my work from home. I am watching and learning–give your old lady a chance.
All things said, in some ways you certainly are a typical teenage girl: you talk A LOT and laugh too loud, change your mood more frequently than your t-shirt, spend hours staring at your phone, and act like our home is an island you need to be rescued from. You try way too hard to be different when just being you makes you different. You don’t believe that you are beautiful when in fact, you are a stunner (if only you would comb your hair, put your contacts in, and wear shoes.) You demand things to be a certain way and have no ability to bend or compromise— don’t know where you got that.
No one expects more from you than you do. To that end, you are harder on yourself than anyone. And, you sort of expect those around you to be the same. Trust me, you need to learn that it is not up to you to make everyone do what they are supposed to do. Life will disappoint you. I know, that right now, a fellow singer being unprepared or a teammate missing a deadline seems infuriating. Lighten up a bit…otherwise you are just going to piss people off. No one likes a “bossy” friend for long.
However, in a few short years, your “bossiness” will lead you to the very top of whatever career mountain you choose. I have accepted the fact that it will most likely not be to the corner office of a medical practice (ouch.) Regardless, whether it is a principal’s office, courtroom, Broadway stage, or simply your own home, that workplace will be better run than any other with you at its helm.
Even though we may have a daily screaming match and you feel like I don’t “understand” you. Remember one thing.
When I grow up, guess who I want to be just like?