I may have mentioned once or twice that I have become a grandmother recently. Love it, and love my grandson, by the way.
What this means, of course, is that my eldest daughter has recently become a mother. She and her husband are going to be excellent parents to this little man. I know my daughter relishes her time with her son.
My daughter. She is me. Smarter, thinner, and prettier, but me just the same. When she was about three and a half, I took her with me to an acquaintance’s house, where several moms and their little ones were also visiting. All the other children knew each other and quickly took off into the back yard to run and play as we watched. I looked over at my sweet little girl watching out the sliding glass door as the others laughed and played and my stomach turned. I’d been that child once, watching others play and feeling left out and lonely. It was gut wrenching and I realized that day that my daughter and I were of one heart.
As she’s grown up, I’ve seen more and more of me in my child. The perfectionist, the worrier, the pleaser, and the downright neurotic. We have often joked about this and my standard line to her is “Sorry about that”.
When she was in middle school and high school, my girl began getting migraines. I KNOW I’ve mentioned my migraines here before. As she got older, they decreased and were very manageable. But now, having given birth and returned to work, her headaches are becoming a daily habit. And they are increasing in intensity. And with all my heart and soul, I am truly sorry sweetheart.