I have imaginary conversations with my daughters sometimes.
Late at night. Reflecting on something they said. In these conversations the
girls are sort of like zen versions of themselves, the wise part of them that’s
so obviously there minus most of the “trying-to-figure-out-life” kid craziness
that muddles that wisdom.
Here is a real
conversation I had with Love Monster recently.
Love Monster- I want to be just like you Mama!
Me- Oh that’s so sweet, love.
Then we went back to playing My Little Ponies.
Here is the imaginary
conversation I had in my head later that night.
Love Monster- I want to be just like you Mama!
Me- No fucking way.
I can say the F word
and stuff because this is all imaginary remember.
Love Monster- No really I do mama.
Me- I am a pain in the ass.
Love Monster- (Giggling) You said ass.
Me- But I get angry at the stupidest things.
Love Monster- You laugh at the silliest things.
Me- No. I snap. I don’t have any patience. I make too many
damn lists. My priorities feel mixed up sometimes. I’ve thrown stuff when I’m
mad.
Love Monster- You do crazy story time. You make yummy ice
cream sundaes. We made a spork-i-corn! We wrote comic books. You sing the
goodnight song every night.
Me- Have you heard how I talk to the direct TV guy when AMC
is messed up? Have you heard?? Me and
customer service do not mix. You don’t want to be like me.
Love Monster- Do too.
Me- (Quietly) No.
No. No. No you don’t.
Love Monster- I do.
Me- I have to eat every meal on time. If I don’t I’m a
nightmare. And don’t even get me started on my teen years. And I’ve yelled at
you and Smirker before for the stupidest stuff….
Love Monster- Mama, I forgive you for yelling.
I choke back a few
tears.
Love Monster- We all make mistakes. That’s not the part I’m
talking about. We’re your daughters. We see you. We really see you. That’s the
part we love.
Me- Oh. (Silence for a
bit. Love Monster holds my hand.) I really don’t want you to talk to the Direct
TV guy like I did though.
Love Monster- I won’t.
Me- Okay. Cool.
Love Monster- The eating thing might be hereditary though. I
need my snacks.
Me- That I can handle.
Why imaginary? I’m scared of them seeing me doubt
myself. I don’t want them to feel the
burden of that. They are sponges. I am their mirror. And I do NOT want them to
doubt their amazing selves. So I hold up and have the conversations in my
imagination. These imaginary conversations seem to illuminate something. Give
me some perspective. And the next day when we are playing ponies, I can think
how lucky I am to have to little girls that love me so much.
And by the way, Love Monster? I want to be just like you.
And by the way, Love Monster? I want to be just like you.