I’m proudly raising strong-willed daughters…and it’s killing me.

Strong Women, raise

Strong Women

I’m not sure we have a ton of forethought about our “End Game” when we raise our children. Sure, we all want to raise bright, happy, thoughtful, well-mannered children and when in the throws of motherhood (especially if there’s multiple kids) many of us go into “Full Mom” mode….

Did you eat?

Did you sleep well?

Are you safe?

Many nights I rested my head on my pillow, exhausted, but oddly content they were alive. Motherhood was exhausting and I was working on minimums.

I often look back and vacillate between wishing I could go back and eat their tiny toes and relish those big toothless smiles, to loving my life now, filled with sleep, yoga classes and late nights drinking too much Bourbon. Hot food is just too yummy, and I didn’t have many hot meals during those early years.

I say all this because the “hard” years…. the ones that started at 5:00 am and lasted til I put the kids to sleep and watched a dateline murder show until 11 pm (it was oddly calming) ….are behind me.  I thought having kids aged 23, 21 and 19 meant I could enjoy the fruits of my labor. I could sit back and silently laugh at their unrealistic philosophies of the world, endure their overuse of the word “aesthetic” and patiently wait for a wedding or baby shower to eventually crop up….to just enjoy being a cool grandmom one day.

But apparently there are these middle years I didn’t know about. The “I’m so proud of who you’ve become…. but you’re killing me” years.

I’ve already endured the “Shut your mouth and just listen years.” Those years stretch from around seventeen to twenty- one. It’s when your kids are “technically” adults, but we’ve all accepted they are basically still twelve. They’ll show some “come-uppance” …. maybe get in your face and fight to stay out ‘til midnight instead of eleven and feel like they’ve won a major victory but, in general, they are still pretty dependent.

Often, I had to tell myself to just shut my mouth and listen. They were trying to figure things out and the days of “Listen to me because I am your mother” were gone. I had to make a shift…and shutting my mouth gave me some time to see where they each were and then decide how to proceed. I’m still in that phase with my youngest, Brooke. I listen a lot. I smile a lot. This time can be frustrating, but I figured, at this point, they’ve heard all my stories, listened to all my parables (Jesus stories ALWAYS kill with the kids…) and well, I was tired of repeating myself and they were tired of listening. Once twenty-one hit….it was a whole new ball game.

When Dean turned twenty-one, we were in the pandemic and the most he was looking for was a glass of wine and for me to make ice cream that looked like a bowl of spaghetti (no lie…it was the pandemic and expectations were low…see pic…it was really quite cool)

Dean’s 21st Birthday Pasta Bowl (made out of Ice cream)

 But Jacqueline…my newly minted twenty-one-year-old…. she’s killing me.

How is your daughter turning twenty-one any different than your son, you might ask? Well…as I mentioned earlier, while I was busy educating her, showing her a love of the arts, celebrating holidays surrounded by family and friends and giving her the gift of faith, love and hope…. she was also watching me.

She was watching me raise my kids and following my dreams of being a comedian. She was watching me give back to my community by volunteering for causes that were important to me. She was watching me take risks, travel far and wide to make my dreams a reality and do things that a lot of women weren’t doing.  She was watching me stick up for myself when a man tried to hold me down. She was watching me raise up other women up, because it was better for all of us to do so. She was watching me make mistakes and take the long, tear-filled road to right myself….and now, she’s trying to do all those things and I’m just not ready.

 She wants to take risks to pursue her dreams, sleep in her car and drive alone cross country to find herself. She wants to help others, at the detriment to herself, because it’s the right thing to do. She is staying out late and working in dark clubs performing stand-up in places I’ve never heard of….and I’m just not ready.

 I try to give sage advice. I try to make this advice not sound so “Mom-like”, and frankly, if anyone else was giving the advice she’d sit down and take notes. But it’s me…. her mom…and right now, at times, we are like oil and water. If I’m honest, I probably thought the same about my mom at her age. I probably ignored everything she said until I started having kids and realized…. this sh*t is hard.

In the those loud, angst-filled moments I remind myself we fight because we are so much alike. We fight because she’s got strong opinions…and whether I agree with those opinions…she has to figure it out on her own. She has to make mistakes. She has to learn who to trust. She has to  trust her own gut  and make things right when she’s gone off course.

 I remind myself that raising a strong-willed daughter is NOT for the faint of heart. You’ve got to know when to fight, know when to shut up and know when to quietly sit on the sidelines and wait for the call when she says, “I just need a hug.”

She recently saved up for a car and went with her dad to the dealership. She knows I’m a master negotiator (because I told her I was) and asked if she wanted me to come help and she flat out said, “no”. She asked me some tips on negotiating, told her Dad not to talk and proudly walked out of the dealership with keys to her new used car!

The part of me that wants to control everything has had to settle in and watch her find her way. Of course, I did all the things that she’s doing but….in my mind, she needs me.  I was thirty years old when I did all these things….and she’s just….a…baby. My baby.

 I know I can’t stop her. I wouldn’t want to. I don’t think I could even if I tried. I know she and Brooke will continue to be strong-willed women and I can’t wait to see how their stories play out. My hope is they will grow up to be happy, kind and successful…and one day raise strong women of their own….and I’ll be in the background laughing…and laughing…while listening to their daughters tell their mom how wrong she is.

Strong women raise strong women. Never underestimate how much your daughters are watching you. I wish you the best in raising your strong-willed daughters. Right at the moment you want to kill them…think about how those very traits that are making your crazy are the same that will lead her to success one day.  It’s hard, it’s thankless and it’s the greatest joy I’ve had in my life…. but it’s killing me. 

Me performing a stand-up gig in 2003. Age 31.

Jacqueline performing stand-up 2023. Age 21.