Daughters...

I remember holding my daughter against my breasts and capturing her first smile in my memory.

I remember her first giggle, was proud that her first word was "mom" and cried tears of joy when she took her first steps twords her big brother.

That sweet innocent child, has made way for a twelve year old, well spoken, intelligent hormonal (almost) teen with boobs and an eyeroll.

She is almost always mad at me.
I do almost everything wrong.

When I sing, (like I always do) the words that I sing are apparently the wrong ones.

Patience takes a new meaning. When Emma gets irritated she changed into an Alien.
You know....

Complete with drool and teeth chomping.

I know that she is my creation. My very own veritable frankenstein. Pieces of myself are mixed in with pieces of her father and of her own uniqueness.

She makes me laugh. Hard. Surprising laughter that is topped with pride that she could make me laugh like that, very few people can.

The other day, while perusing the isles of walmart for "My vagina is bleeding so bad that I want to chop it off" supplies, I came across the 'teen' section.

Behold.

Shelves of shiney multi-hued boxes, advertised specifically for my daughter.
Or rather, for myself. Emma would approve of a black box with plain old pads inside...invisible ones.
Ones I could not talk about.

I grabbed the shiney-est box and threw it in my cart.

I picked up Brandee and Once I got home I approached Emma cautiously.

"Look what I got you." I held the shiney magical box in my two hands.
(I really wanted to sing, but I didnt because Emma would bite my entire head off.)

So I just held it in my hands.

Emma was reading in bed, she glanced over. "What is it?"

"Pads."

"No."

"Emmmmmaaaaa, I'm going to open one and show you how to do it."

"No."

"Fine. I will talk and you will listen then."

Then Brandee chimed in "Emma you should be happy you have a mom to talk to about this. My stepdad brought me depends when I started......do you KNOW what Depends are Emma?"

She laughed "Yes. I do"

I continued..."Im going to make you a little bag with these, and little wipes and THEN we will have tea..."

"What? TEA?"

"TEA?!" Brandee exclaimed.

"Yes! Tea. You know, we will have a lunch and wear hats and such. Its a tea."

Emma just looked at me incrediously.

Brandee just looked at me incerdiously.

"Tea?"

"YES! Moms do that I think."



Later, I was talked down from my tea idea..... It's okay, im use to it.

Every idea that I have ever had of having a daughter is slowly wasting away. Pink? No.
Cute capes with metallic buttons? Pshhh.

It is only natural that my idea of a "The day you started your period" scrapbook page has been trash canned. But it is okay.

Tonight, before dinner, Emma was laying on the ground and she called me over to her. I rushed over "What is wrong? Did your vagina start bleeding?!"

"What?! No."

"Okay. Did you put some of the shiney pads in your bag?"

"Am I supposed too?"

"Yes! What is going to happen if you start at school and you have none?"

"That would be bad Emma." Shane chimes in

"Its okay. It gives me time to put some inspiring notes inside your pads."

"What??? notes?  WHY??"

"So if you are away from me when it happens. They will say things like "Dont be scared I am with you in spirit..."

"NO!" she exclaimed

"WHY!?"  I pouted "You dont want me there in spirt?!"

"No. I do not want your spirit in my underwear."

SO....I guess the patience goes both ways. When she stated that heartbreaking fact, she did so with much patience.