36 Things I Want My Daughter to Always Remember

Posted on February 21, 2012 by FoBaM-Jamie

I recently came across a post by Lisa of Mommy OM titled, 25 things I want my daughter to know. As the mother of a blossoming eight year-old, I was suddenly struck by all the things I want to instill in my own daughter about how special she is, the importance of being true to your heart, how to be a good friend, and so much more. A mother’s greatest aspiration is to see her children lead happy, rich, fulfilling lives. As I watched my little girl drift off to sleep last night, my mind was filled with all the wishes I hold in my heart for her happiness. If I could, I would giftwrap the world for her. I would create a new world designed to delight her. There is nothing that makes me feel happier or more content than to see joy on my child’s face.

I know that I cannot (and should not) make my daughter’s life perfect. I know that eventually she will venture out into the world on her own. She will have to face her own dragons and learn many things the hard way. I know that most of what I tell her – even the things I might whisper earnestly in the quiet dark of her room while she sleeps – will remain unheard and unheeded for a very long time. Even tonight, as she prepared for bed, she chastised me for not taking her anguish over a small blemish seriously. If only she knew how clearly I remember feeling those same anxieties myself at her age. But it will be, I think, a long time before we are able to truly empathize with one another. For now, our worlds are still very far apart – separated by a generation and a lifetime of experiences.

Even so, there are things I want my daughter to always remember. I will tell her these things – today, tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that. I will repeat them over and over until they echo so clearly in her head that they might be mistaken for her own thoughts. These are the things that I believe will help her create her happiness  – grow it in her own heart instead of ceaselessly searching for it in other people and places and pursuits.

1. You are special.
2. There is no one else exactly like you in the whole world. Cherish your unique self.
3. You deserve love, admiration, honesty, respect, and second chances.
4. You have the right to use your voice – any time, any place, on any topic.
5. You are beautiful.
6. Beauty is as beauty does and while physical beauty is fleeting, a beautiful soul lasts forever.
7. True friends make you laugh and feel good about yourself.
8. True love makes you want to be a better person.
9. Girls can do anything boys can do … and some things boys can’t.
10. Magic is real – you just have to know where to look for it.
11. Taking time for yourself is important – be your own best friend.
12. You can always come home. Always.
13. You can tell me anything.
14. You don’t always have to follow the rules, but …
15. … always follow your heart.
16. You are a creative genius and your creations are your gift to the world. Give them freely and joyfully.
17. There’s no such thing as failure. Learn from every experience.
18. You are loved more than you will know until you have your own child.
19. Anything is possible if you believe.
20. There are few things a hot mug of tea and a good book won’t fix.
21. Go after your passion with a vengeance, but …
22. … remember to slow down and savor the journey along the way.
23. Sometimes it’s okay to eat dessert first.
24. Don’t wait for things to be “perfect” before you do something.
25. Keep your eye on the Big Picture, but revel in the details.
26. Trust yourself. You are smart enough, strong enough, and brave enough.
27. When in doubt, grow something.
28. It’s okay if you don’t know the answers. Sometimes it’s a better place to start from.
29. The Golden Rule is the easiest standard by which to measure any choice.
30. Travel is the best teacher, but always be safe and be wise. The world is a beautiful place, but it is not without its sharp edges.
31. Never compromise your beliefs – not for stature, approval, or anything else.
32. Manners count.
33.  Learn to laugh at yourself and life will suddenly seem much easier.
34. It’s okay to be fragile sometimes. Life can be like that.
35. I am always so proud of you.
36. I will always be with you. Even when I’m gone I will be holding you in my heart and wrapping my love around you.

What would you like your child to always remember?

Image Credit: Louise Docker

When I grow up …

Posted on August 23, 2011 by FoBaM-Jamie

When my daughter was four, she wanted to be a tap dancing tightrope walker. If you asked her today, she’d probably tell you she’s going to be a dog trainer/fashion designer/singer. When I was younger, I wanted to be a dolphin trainer, editor of a New York fashion magazine, and Barbara Streisand.

How our children answer this question is something we parents find endlessly fascinating. It gives us a peek into our kids’ minds and hints about how they see themselves. It can also be terribly entertaining to hear responses unconstrained by the limits of reality. I love when kids let loose with their imaginations and reach out enthusiastically for a brassring of their own design – first ice cream maker on the moon, world’s best singing submarine pilot, or elephant pedicurist.

Neil Gaiman, one of my favorite authors, tells a story about when he was a precocious young man with an answer for everything. As he tells it, when a visiting adult commented on how bright he was and suggested that perhaps someday he’d be Prime Minister, young Gaiman responded that he certainly hoped he’d be something much better than that. That made me smile. Children aren’t saddled with the same society-driven hierarchy that most of us accept as part of Real Life. They don’t consider being the President of the United States a superior aspiration to being a balloon artist. They make their vocational choices from the heart.

If only we were all able to do that. Or, perhaps I should say, if only we could keep doing that as we grew up – hold onto the conviction that the thing that makes us happy is the right thing to pursue. But, it’s hard. Too soon, our dreams of pachyderm pedicures give way to more “respectable” career choices. Our unique and impassioned visions fade away, replaced by options that fit more neatly into traditional educational paths and career plans.

There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be a doctor, a lawyer, a fireman, or a clerk. If that’s where your passion lies, go for it! But how delightful is the grown up who turns childhood passions into a living? Who doesn’t love stories about the dancer who began choreographing ballets at the age of six or the artisan baker who was testing recipes in mom’s kitchen after morning Kindergarten classes. There is something magical about people who seem “born to do” … something heroic about the consistent, persistent, and unwavering pursuit of a personal passion.

I’d love to see my daughter grow up to be a tap dancing tightrope walker – whatever makes her heart sing. As for me, I’m slowly coming back around to recreating my life around my childhood passions. It’s not easy, but it feels wonderful! I highly recommend the adventure.

What do your kids want to be when they grow up? Do their answers surprise you, or scare you? What did you want to be when you were a kid? Did you wind up doing that?

Image Credit: Norma Desmond

Teaching children to fly

Posted on July 26, 2011 by FoBaM-Jamie

After “I love you,” the words my daughter hears from me most frequently are, “be careful!”

Yes, I am Cautious Mom. I worry about tripping, stubbing, falling, twisting, slicing, scraping, poking, and every other type of physical mishap you can think of. I am constantly telling my daughter to slow down, get off that, and stop jumping. Unfortunately for me, there’s little chance she’ll cooperate. No matter how many times I scold her for doing somersaults off the couch or using the roof of my SUV as a clubhouse, my little monkey is going to keep right on climbing, swinging, and running.

With such a preoccupation with safety, it might seem out of character for me to encourage my daughter to participate in what most people would consider “extreme” sports, but I do. In the winter she skis (already better than me, I might add), and this summer she has gotten more involved in indoor rock climbing and trapeze.

Yes, that’s right. I said, “trapeze.”

We’re fortunate to live near a TSNY (Trapeze School of New York) school where anyone can experience what it feels like to “fly through the air with the greatest of ease,” or at least fly through the air with your heart in your throat wondering what the hell possessed you to do this in the first place.

My daughter was intrigued with the trapeze the first time she saw it. She’s one of those kids who tries to make playground swings go all the way around. Although she was initially a bit awkward, and still hesitates when it comes to flips and knee hangs, she clearly loves the sensation and jumps off the platform with no external evidence of fear. The first time she did it, I expected to be the mom who stands on the ground, wringing her hands and holding her breath.  Instead, I found myself standing on tiptoe and cheering out loud.

I was surprised, too.

But, there was something so beautiful about seeing her launch herself into the air – so strong and brave and capable. As she leapt off the platform, I felt my own heart leap out with her – soaring to even greater heights than the trapeze could take her. All the possibilities of her future seemed physically tangible in that moment, suspended in the air beside her as she swung back and forth, her little legs pumping, a huge grin on her face.

As mothers, we have a built-in impulse to protect our children from harm, but we also have a responsibility to give them opportunities to learn about personal strength, perseverance, patience, and confidence.  Sometimes, we have to expose them to a little danger – even just perceived danger – so they can get a taste of what it feels like to push themselves. That’s the only way they will discover how far they can go. The first time my daughter topped the indoor rock wall, her amazement at her own ability nearly brought tears to my eyes. The first time she successfully executed a backwards-flip dismount on the trapeze, I literally jumped up and down.

Teaching our children to fly is one of the best parts of being a parent. As they stretch their wings and launch into the unknown, we get to soar alongside them. Sometimes we lead; sometimes we follow. Always, we revel in watching the world open up to our kids as they discover that they really can do anything.

What are your stories about helping your children discover how amazing they are?

Photo Credit: Harry Howarth

Child-proofing the World

Posted on February 22, 2011 by FoBaM-Jamie

Part of getting ready for a new baby is child-proofing your home. Though newborn infants are months away from scaling shelving units, emptying kitchen cabinets, or experimenting with the electrical properties of pacifiers, we diligently make the rounds installing gates, cabinet locks, outlet covers, corner pads, furniture anchors, and more – all meant to protect our children from injury.  That’s what good parents do, right?

As our children get older, they outgrow these safety devices. They get a handle on what might happen if they tumble down the stairs or stick something in an electrical socket. We relax a little. One-by-one, the little hooks, locks, and bumpers begin to disappear. We start to transition out of the padded cell décor. Consciously or subconsciously, we breathe a little sigh of relief. No more worrying about junior using the entertainment center as a repelling wall. Phew – glad that’s over.

My daughter just turned seven. She knows all about the domestic safety rules. She’s fairly coordinated and knows not to get all daredevil when she’s riding her bike or doing cartwheels. Even though I realize that an accident could happen anywhere at any time, I don’t stay up nights with visions of stitches and splints. I have bigger things to worry about. Now, as I watch my little girl head off into the world each day – climbing aboard that big, yellow school bus – I worry less about her physical safety and more about her emotional happiness. I worry about bullies and mean girls. I worry about injured pride, dashed hopes, and crushed confidence.

When our children are babies, they are – for the most part – safe in our arms. They look to us for all their needs – physical and emotional. As they grow up, we teach them how to stay healthy and safe so that they can go out into the world and come back in one piece. But, there’s only so much we can do to protect their emotions. They will start to look for approval from their friends instead of us. They will put themselves out there in ways that might leave them with broken hearts or dreams or hopes. And there’s not much a mother can do, except be there to pick up the pieces. Going through these experiences is just part of growing up … for our kids, and for us.

There is a part of me that wishes I could child-proof the world for my daughter. I wish I could remove all threat of harm, fill her world with only kindness and love, clear her path for success and happiness. But I know that even if I was able to do all that, it would be wrong. The experience of living in the world – the Real World – is what helps us grow. If I was to remove all hardship from my little girl’s life, I would be robbing her of the chance to grow stronger, smarter, and – most importantly – more compassionate. It will break my heart to stand by and watch her go through difficult times, but I will take comfort in knowing that every challenge she faces will ultimately give her a confidence in her own ability to overcome. What doesn’t kill us makes us stronger, and so it must be with our kids as well. At least we can be there with the chocolate chip cookies and hugs.

Image Credit: barunpatro

Mommy, dance with me

Posted on January 18, 2011 by FoBaM-Jamie

My daughter turns seven tomorrow. I can hardly believe it. I’d like to ask where the time has gone, but I know where it has gone. It has slipped through my fingers, minutes turning into weeks turning into years. While I was on a client call earlier today, my computer went into sleep mode and random images from my photo archives began floating silently across the screen. I watched with a lump in my throat as pictures of my daughter danced before my eyes like a presentation on “This is Your Life”: the day we gamboled in the field – chasing butterflies, doing cartwheels, and painting watercolor pictures of circus elephants; a charming moment when, as an infant, she fell asleep in my bed with our huge dog curled up beside her; dozens of photos of her bright, broad toddler smile beaming at me – full of joy, pride, and an unquenchable curiosity about everything around her.

The years haven’t just flown by, they have disappeared like the ball in a magician’s sleight of hand trick. One moment you see it, the next – gone.  But the memories remain. As the photographic evidence of the past 2,556 days faded in and out on my screen, the feelings that accompanied each captured moment came flooding back to me. Emotions and sensory memories wrapped themselves around each moment like the lustrous layers of nacre on a pearl. The last seven years becomes a beautiful strand of softly shining treasures that warm my heart even as real pearls warm to the touch.

Seven years old tomorrow and so many firsts and lasts already come and gone. But we’re not nearly done making memories. Sunday night as we were getting ready for bath time, my little girl called out in her clear voice, “Mommy, come dance with me!” Though it was getting late and I knew this invitation to be at least partly a ploy to delay bedtime, I took her hands in mine and we spun in dizzying circles, our socks sliding across the kitchen floor. We giggled. She reached her arms up and I obediently hoisted her onto my hip. As I swung her around, she leaned in and planted a spontaneous kiss on my cheek. I looked down and saw not the tall first grader who is nearly big enough to go without a car seat, but the precocious toddler with pudgy little fingers and only the vaguest notion of the world outside her mother’s arms.

I set my tiny dancer down and stepped back to give her the floor. She twirled and kicked and swept her feet across the floor in intricate steps that she made up as she went along. She gave the routine a little hip action, and a fair amount of sassy hand jive meant to mime the lyrics. She struck a pose and admired her reflection in the darkened glass of the sliding door. I smiled, my heart brimming over with deeply felt love, pride, delight, and hope for her future joy.  She turned and grinned at me, laughing at herself and the mock seriousness of her performance – ever the little girl, ever my little girl.

I smiled back and joined her once again on the dance floor, knowing that this was another of those grain-of-sand moments that will become a beautiful, shining pearl to be treasured for the rest of my days.