My church has a lovely custom which we have performed the past several years in order to celebrate the children we have seen grow up in the church who are about to graduate from high school. A knotted fleece blanket is made for each grad in their high school colors, and they are draped over the rail at the front of the church through the entire service. At the end of the service, the students, each wearing a corsage, are called up, and they are joined by their families, Sunday school teachers, confirmation leaders, and any other caring adult who has gotten to know them over the years who wishes to come up, too.

Delia's school doesn't really have colors--it's a very small charter school--but their mascot is the dragon, and they are very LGBTQ friendly, and so the rainbow is welcome there. The church found exactly the right fabric to honor her ("my blanket is the awesomest!" she said). At the end of the prayers of blessing and sending forth, the parents and other adults who love the child drape the child in his or her blanket.

Out in the Narthex, a gift bag is set up for each grad, with a description of their plans for the coming year taped to the front (where they plan to go to college or trade school; what they want to study). The congregation is encouraged to write caring notes which are slipped into each of the balloon-decorated bags, and then everyone celebrates with cupcakes.

When we were walking out to the car, it brought another memory flooding back, which I wrote in my journal in 2005 here. This is the crucial paragraph, a description of a moment when I looked at her when she was almost nine years old:

I looked at her, really looked, as we approached the car. The balloons bobbed over her head, blobs of bright and happy color bouncing on the breeze. She had a Blizzard in her hand, a treat that she loves. She wore her dearly beloved flip-flops, and a lilac blouse, and a pair of stained and battered shorts that spoke of hours in the sun, playing. And I was suddenly proud that I could give her that moment, and all the other moments we have given her. She was out for Dairy Queen with her family. We were giving her a life, a childhood full of balloons. I hope she will look back on this moment someday and agree that yes, it was good. As a parent who loves my girls with a passion and tries really really hard, it helps to know that sometimes (at least once in a while) I manage to do some things right.

I showed the entry to Delia recently. She looked at me today as we approached the car, again with balloons bobbing over her head, and she said aloud just what I was thinking: "a childhood, with balloons!" Now her childhood is ending, again with balloons, and a lovely ritual to remind her that no matter where she goes on her journey from here, our love and our prayers go with her.





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The girls have always been fascinated with the idea of fairies. Fiona particularly used to spend hours when she was a little girl creating fairy houses and furniture in her special place by the front porch.

I have blown off gardening this year entirely due to my crazy work schedule and the trials I'll be involved with. I knew I would simply have no time, and so my yard is pathetic. No flowering plants on the porch for the first time EVER, no geraniums in planters in front of the front door. My lawn is full of weeds.

But I did stop in the garden store once, thinking to get a flowering lobelia in a hanging pot that I traditionally hang by the back door--but instead I saw a display of fairy gardens, and so I asked the girls if they wanted to create one. They were enchanted by the idea. We spent several hours, seriously weighing pros and cons of the various things they had for sale--they wanted SO much to get it right that it took them forever to make up their minds, and so all were rather cross by the time we got home.

But Fiona set it up, and although she occasionally forgets to water it, so the baby's breath looks rather parched, on the whole it has taken shape nicely. I am sure if there are any fairies in the neighborhood (and Fiona, I suspect, secretly is convinced that there are) they would find this a lovely haven.







(For perspective, that watering can in front of the well is about the size of a thimble.)

This is one of those special things you see as a parent occasionally, where something they had as children continues to enrich their lives as adults.

Isn't it beautiful?

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This is really well done. And funny.


Parents rap about maintaining their household by videosonlytube

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Fiona: "All my friends are soooo jealous and want you and Dad for parents."

Me (blankly): "Why?"

Fiona: "Because you're so cool. Do you have any idea how much nerd cred you give me? You've got a house full of books, tons of them autographed by people they read. You've been a guest at Convergence. You give me fanfiction recommendations and Dad knows all the great TV shows. And you've had Neil Gaiman in your home."

I give my daughter nerd cred?

I'm so proud.

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Delia sent an email message to some of her loved ones that read in part:

So, I've been thinking a lot about my birthday, what it means to me, and what I want. This year however, I don't really want the expensive camera, or the latest apple product or the newest cricut machine. I don't think I want material things this year.

Could you find some way to send me wisdom? I respect and admire each and every one of you, and I would love just a little piece of the wisdom that you all have. You are all such great people who have loved me no matter what, even when I made mistakes or I didn't believe you when you would say "I love you".

I know that this is a really different request from my past birthday wishes but I have some ideas in case you're stumped. Just know however that I want to know even more than what I ask here. Tell me and teach me things that I haven't even thought of.

...

These are just some of the things I think about when I'm wondering how you're doing and how you have lived such great inspiring lives. Your lives may not have been easy to start off with, and they may not be easy now, but you are satisfied with them. That is what I'm most envious of, your pure spirit, loving nature and wisdom that has let you all be satisfied with your lives, even at the worst of times.

Even though this might be confusing, I hope you understand somehow or someway. If you send me some wisdom in the mail, could you have it on it's own piece of paper? I want to collect these from all of my heros and inspirations and keep them together, for me to look at when I feel lost in life or simply miss you guys. Oh, and don't be afraid to decorate it!

I love you all!

This is what I wrote and included with her birthday card:

For Delia, on the occasion of your sixteenth birthday
With love, from Mom and Dad

1. You don't have to have everything figured out all at once.
You have a lifetime to discover who you are. We have no doubt that who you are becoming will be a wonderful person, but some parts may take years to figure out, whether it's what you want to do for your career, or who you want to love, or what you believe about God, or politics, or ethics, or all the other big life questions. Be patient with the process, because no one is keeping score. The journey is part of the process.

2. Be kind to yourself.
You are worthy of being loved. You are worthy of respect, even if you screw up and make mistakes. And you WILL make mistakes, because you are human. Frankly, if you DIDN'T make mistakes, you'd be kind of insufferable. Love your own body, show it respect, and treat it well.

3. Be kind to others.
Or if you can't be kind (because you just don't click with someone, or your values don't mesh with them, or they've hurt you), be wary and put your energy into protecting your boundaries, rather than being needlessly cruel.

4. Make sure that others are kind to you.
Don't let others treat you badly. Remember the rule we raised you with: when you say, 'Please stop' the other person has to stop. If they don't, you don't need them in your life. You have the right to expect that respect.

5. Be open to experience.
Be brave, without being reckless. Try new things. Be open to new people. We think that your inner creativity will probably make you a natural at this, but remember to keep renewing your commitment to this as you grow older. It's natural to fall into patterns and to go with what's easy. Strive to keep from falling into ruts.

6. Ask for help if you need it.
You will acquire mentors throughout your life. You have already shown your wisdom by asking for wisdom for your birthday. Keep doing that. Keep an eye out for people whose lives you admire and pick their brains. People are usually delighted to be asked for their expertise. If you realize that you are in a situation where you are over your head, or you feel trapped or you're being abused, and you need help ask for it. Don't let pride stop you.

7. Be open to love.
Love can hurt, but it is also the source of some of life's greatest joys. Sometimes it takes work, and that can be kind of a pain, but it's worth putting in the work. It won't be perfect. No one can effortlessly intuit what you need, and sometimes you have to tell them. Sometimes loving someone else doesn't mean feeling love, but it's an act of will. Your mommy and daddy come down strongly on the side of, 'Love is worth it.' You are worth it. Never doubt it.

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I had all sorts of good intentions about this weekend, mostly involving cleaning up the yard and the house. But the heat and humidity has sapped away all of my forward momentum, and I don't think I'm going to do any of it. I've really had difficulty the past couple days. We don't have central air, and Rob hasn't put the window air conditioner into our bedroom window yet. I'm having difficulty breathing, and I get dizzy standing up. I had real trouble standing up for the hymns in church today. There is a pollution/ozone warning in Minneapolis right now, so maybe that's it. It's truly inhuman in Fiona's room (my old office), the hottest room in the house. Rob and I have decided to get her a window air conditioner. Fiona's been having trouble sleeping, and her appetite has all but disappeared. Which is not good, as her appetite is small anyway.

I've had some wonderful talks with Fiona over the past couple of days. We went to a coffee shop to escape the heat for a couple house and talked, and then came home and talked some more. She really has grown up enormously in the past year and discovered a lot of things about herself. We've talked about all sorts of things: money, her plan of study at school, her hopes to take a semester abroad, ideas for majors, fanfiction, alcohol use among her peers, writing and anxiety, her friendships, our family dynamics, politics, personal ethics, self discovery, her memories of growing up, and our family traditions she wants to carry on to her own family some day, and more. I'm so very proud of her. She's quite worried about the future (starting with the immediate future, as in, OMG, will I find a job this summer??) I'm trying to be as sympathetic as I can without increasing her stress by pressuring her; that would be absolutely unhelpful. But she's suffering a lot of anxiety about student debt, and I can't blame her. God, it would terrify me, too. I wish I could do more to help; I wish we had saved more for college. But we really couldn't do any more than we did. I still feel damn guilty, though. I've been sending her links to some of the Occupy Student movement, which is doing a lot of political work on student debt. I've been checking in with her regarding how she's handling the transition home. She says that we've drawn a good balance on treating her more like an adult (some of her friends are actually jealous, as they've had rougher transitions going home for the summer); I've said she's made it easy because she really is a good kid about checking in, keeping up apprised of her plans. She's been suffering friend withdrawal.

Delia is doing pretty well at the moment. School's out for the summer, and she has a week before she starts her summer job. She went out garage saling with the new boyfriend of the moment yesterday, and then spent some time at the local lake beach. She had a new friend sleep over last night that she met at this local teenage program she's just got involved with, Treehouse. They cut and dyed her hair last night. The cut is a sort of artsy angled cut (a little ragged since her friend did it, but she's pleased with it). She chose not a wild color, as I would have assumed she would, but a sort of chestnut brown, quite like my hair color actually. I approve. I figure that Delia's essential inner restlessness will drive her to experiment with a lot of different identities, and as an experiment, hair dye is a pretty mild one! (There was one unfortunate incident: a streak of dye that landed on some wood paneling in the bathroom which they didn't spot it and clean it up quickly before it set. Oh well. It's been our house for twenty years, and of course there is going to be occasional collateral damage.)

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Dutch filmmaker Frans Hofmeester filmed his daughter once a week from birth to age twelve and made this 2 minute 45 second video by splicing bits of them together.




Yes. They grow up so fast.

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and what it indicates about good parenting.

It ends:

"And finally, the most important lesson of all: Get the Fun Pass.
It is a way better deal."

Read the article here.

Edited to add: Here's another interesting article with more indepth information about George Monroy, Caine's father, and his approach to parenting.

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HOW IS IT that I did not know that this beloved book had been made into a Broadway musical? I ran across the link to this song, and I really really like it. What a great song about a young girl brimming with life and hope, on the cusp of adulthood. Mothers, take note. Will probably investigate and buy the soundtrack tonight.

Fiona and Delia? This one's for you.

Love,

Your mother




("I just want to... cure disease and write a symphony and win the Nobel Prize like other girls.")

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Maybe it's giving up a writing career and then giving up karate and not knowing what, exactly, will replace it.

Maybe it's that, after thirty plus years of daily faithfulness, I no longer write in my paper journal.

Maybe it's the unseen daily struggle, the stuff that Elinor Dashwood does not think seemly to hash in this online journal. It takes up what feels like maybe seventy, eighty percent of my brain space, and yet so much of it I do not feel at liberty to disclose (it involves other people's stories rather than my own, and why would I want to vent about such dreary, depressing stuff anyway, and oh, Peg, aren't you just sick of the self-absorption of it all?) And so this journal has been quiet.

I keep thinking of "To Room Nineteen" by Doris Lessing. I'm definitely feeling haunted by it. Don't misunderstand me: I'm not saying that I'm feeling suicidal or anything; I'm definitely not. But the similarity of that protagonist's situation to my own situation niggles at me, like a tiny yet fierce sliver under the skin. The children have grown and are moving into independence, and now...what? She sits in a room, silent, with nothing to say, trying to find her way back to herself.

What happens if she can't?

There have been so few comments on my posts lately. Is it because I'm disappearing, because I truly have nothing left worth saying?

I need a new purpose. I don't know what it is yet. There has to be some point to my life from this point on other than falling into silence.

It would help if I didn't have to deal with all this other crap in my life, that weighs me down, burdens and exhausts me emotionally.

But I suppose wishing for that is pointless.

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