My baby girl
I never thought raising a girl was going to be so hard. When she was a baby I used to dress her up in cute clothes and marvel at how adorable she was. I even bought her her own pairs of reebok shoes, little new balance shoes, and these cute designer sunglasses She used to look at me and smile, you know? I mean, there was nothing in the world that was more precious than my baby girl.
Now it’s different. Yes, she is still my baby girl, even though she is way taller now, but it’s different. She looks more like me. She talks like me. She even acts like me. How is a mother supposed to deal with someone who is so like herself?
Better yet, how does her father deal with? Plenty of home surveillance cameras to keep the boys away!
Now that is a scary thought.
But before I really ponder the idea of my daughter dating and then eventually being married, I want to think about her being a baby. Those were the happy memories. I want to remember when she got her first tooth, not when she got her first tattoo. I’d like to forget that day especially.
But I still love her, and she is still my baby girl. She will always be. No matter how big and tall she gets. No matter how much she talks back. No matter how much she rolls her eyes. I will look at her and see the little baby girl I used to hold in my arms and sing soft lullabies to, and maybe someday, when I can’t remember how sweet of a baby she was, she’ll give me a granddaughter.
One can only hope.
new accounting software at work
Girls growing up
My daughter came home with a boyfriend today, and I hated him. I mean he probably was a nice kid. She seemed to like him. But I absolutely hated the boy even though he came over to help us install our garage heaters. First of all he reeked of cologne. I can’t believe his mother let him out of the house smelling like that. Does he even have a mother?
My daughter is dating a homeless boy but it looked like he was wearing a luxury watch.
Then he looked like he spent more time in the mirror than my daughter did. I sometimes wonder what happens to all of the hair gel in the World. I have now discovered where it went- all the hair gel and his tattoo gun ink that is – straight to this boy’s head! It was almost unbelievable how much he had in there. They could walk through a hurricane and the boy’s hair would still be perfect.
In the boy’s defense he was well mannered. He addressed me as ma’am and shook her father’s hand- but don’t think that his veiled attempts at courtesy were enough to win me over.
They were not.
I could see that he was a troublemaker that my daughter brought home to shock me. He probably didn’t even go to school. He looked like he dropped out. He had a plasma television and two radar detectors on the dash of his car so I know he’s just trouble because that’s how I was at his age.
I’m calling the school in the morning, and checking to see if he is a student. Oh, that’s right; my daughter said he doesn’t go to her school. Fine, I’m calling the district, or maybe even the police station to make sure he is not on some wanted list.
Maybe I am being a little irrational, but I just don’t like the boy.