Growing Pains

My daughter is 12 today. A pre-teen. A young lady.

Mama needs margaritas.

Long-time readers may remember me mentioning this before, but right before each birthday I notice a change in my children. I don’t know if it’s natural or if, as parents, we automatically start looking for signs of change. Whatever it is, I notice.

I’ve spent the past month or so preparing for the release of my book. I could go whole weekends without seeing Kali except for the few times she’d poke her head into my bedroom and ask what we were having for breakfast, lunch or dinner. My response? “Go ask your Dad.” Any guilt I felt was assuaged with, I’m doing this for them. What kind of mother can I be if I’m miserable, waiting for others to see fit to make my dreams come true? Why not take my fate in my own hands and make them happen? And what better way to start than with a book that my daughter inspired?

And this did the trick up until this past weekend when Kali admitted that she kept forgetting her birthday was Tuesday. She was not excited about it. Anytime we asked what she wanted or what she wanted to do, she would shrug and say, “I can’t think of anything I want or need.” I joked that this was a good thing. When I was her age, if someone asked me what I wanted, I’d respond with a list as long as a New York City block. “When I was your age, I didn’t have shit!” We both laughed.

But I felt horrible. She may be turning 12, I thought, but that’s still a child. Children should be excited about their birthdays whether they have a wish list a mile long or not. Everyone wants to feel like their birthday matters and I’d done a piss-poor job of doing that for Kali. If she can’t think of something she needs or wants, then it’s my job to come up with something. To surprise her with things she didn’t know she wanted or needed. It’s my job to create magic because this day matters. This day, twelve years ago, changed my life and it should be celebrated every day, but especially today.

Yesterday, when she got home from school, we went to my nail salon and got our nails done. I did not cringe (outwardly anyway) when she chose black polish.

The white flowers with pink accents were a nice compromise.

We went to Claire’s next and I bravely endured the constant nose tickling as it seemed everywhere I turned, a feather-adorned accessory was invading my nostrils. I did not pass judgment on the fingerless gloves or the belt with skull and crossbones on it – I simply thanked God the skulls were surrounded by rainbows.

Next we went to Aeropostale for new shirts and then Charming Charlies where she picked out the cutest zebra print slip-on shoes and purple hat.

As I watched her beautiful fingers with their black nails brush over fabrics and patterns, and her face react in either pleasure or distaste, I realized she was well on her way to being her own person with her own tastes and style. And sure, I could say no and only agree to buy the things that we both liked, or worse, the things that I liked whether she agreed or not, but doesn’t that defeat the point? Hadn’t I raised her these past twelve years with the desire and knowledge that she’d eventually become her own person? How can that happen if I insist on lots of pink and frills in a vain attempt to keep her “my little girl?”

Her mood had lightened considerably. She even tried convincing me to buy something for myself, but I declined. As much as I wanted the bag, this shopping trip wasn’t about me.

That's not to say I won't go back for it... maybe today.

This was about Kali and (I didn’t tell her this) the plan was to not say no to anything she wanted. When she spotted a t-shirt she wanted in Aeropostale and asked, “If I put back one of the other shirts, can I get that one?,” I replied, “Why not get them all?”

“I can do that?” “Yes, you can.”

I did it because I could afford to. I did it because everyone should have a shopping spree once in awhile. We went to Best Buy last and I bought the two things that I had planned to buy her anyway: an iHome system for her bedroom so she could dock her iPod at night and listen to music while it charges (it’s really cool – it changes colors) and an iTunes gift card so she can download all the Japanese music she’s into now that she’s also into Anime.

When we got home, she excitedly pulled her new clothes, shoes and accessories from their bags and showed them to her Dad. She couldn’t wait to go to school today and wear her new shoes, belt, and fingerless gloves. And here’s the cool thing about my kid: she won’t expect this from now on. This wasn’t about buying her love, acceptance, or happiness. I’d been in her shoes, thinking no one cared enough about your birthday to make a big deal. Some years the big deal may be a home-cooked meal of your choosing with cupcakes made with love for dessert. And some years the big deal may be a shopping spree with Mom as you both giggle over how pretty your nails are and drive with the windows down, singing “The Dog Days are Over” at the top of your lungs.

I watched her walk into the school this morning with a knot in my stomach. The kid has a funky style, for sure. But it’s hers and I worried if I’d done enough to teach her to own it. Then a boy in front of her stopped to hold the door as she adjusted her new white tote bag with the black butterflies and she flashed him a braces-lined smile of gratitude. And he blushed.

She owns it alright.

We’re going out to dinner tonight to celebrate. And she gets to pick the restaurant. And I just pray they serve margaritas.

Big ones.

Nina’s Top Ten Questions on My Mind

1o. Why are there no black people on The Bachelor/Bachelorette? Does ABC assume that people wouldn’t tune in to see 25 black men or women vie for the attention of another? Are there not enough desperate black people trying to get famous find love to participate? VH1 seems to have no problem finding them for Flavor of Love and I Love New York.

9. What is the big deal with this Susan Boyle? So? A fat and ugly woman can sing. There are millions of those singing their fat ugly hearts out in churches across the country every Sunday.

8. How do you clean a dishwasher?

7. Where the hell did I put that $25 iTunes gift card?

6. Why are the best tasting foods (pizza, chocolate, burgers, fries, pie) the worst for you? Why isn’t there an all-hot wings diet?

5. Speaking of which… isn’t everything better with bacon?

4. Does my ass make these jeans look big?

3. Did the south just get together and collectively decide they were going to be sucky drivers? Is this their way of getting us Yankees to go back home?

2. Is it a blessing or a curse that the new Best Buy is literally three minutes from my house?

Which leads to…

1. Why wasn’t I born independently wealthy?

What questions are on your mind this week?

Have a Top Ten suggestion? Send it to nina@blogitoutb.com and you may see it here one week.