<p>Every so often, usually in the dead of winter when I’m feeling pretty confident in life, I take steps to vex myself.</p><p>Of course I don’t purposely cause myself grief. Goodness gracious, I’m no fool — everyone knows life hands out heartbreak, remorse and worry willy-nilly when you least expect it.</p><p>But it’s when the weather is cold that I unclutter a few closets and find evidence. Evidence that my memory is actually in direct contrast to the truth.</p><p>Hidden in the craft closet, where creativity in a vast array of mosaic tiles, beads and polymer clay awaited the hands of three little artists who use to live here, was a 4.5-by-6 inch, soft-bound book entitled “What Preteens Want Their Parents to Know.”</p><p>Being a rather progressive mom nearly two decades ago, I may have bought this for my preteen to encourage her. What I didn’t know was that she would read, annotate and tab the pages that she wanted ME to read.</p><p>Inside the front cover, my first beloved daughter wrote: “I love U, Mom — check tabs.”</p><p>On a separate paper, she had tabbed eleven specific pages.</p><p>She didn’t tab page 27, but Aly had added a bubble exclamation mark after: “Listening is one of the best ways to show me you love me!”</p><p>My sweet little maiden also did not tab page 51: “Make sure I have a quiet place and a regular time to do homework.”</p><p>It’s terribly unfortunate that this offspring who I birthed, clothed and fed every day did not tab the pages that I believe I was actually doing well.</p><p>Like page 64: “I like us to go to church together as a family.” Or page 47: “Even though I complain about music lessons, make me stick with them.”</p><p>Nope, the little “know-it-all” missy that lives in my house marked pages like page 65: “Remember, I can’t read your mind.”</p><p>And page 21: “Tell me what’s going on with family problems or any other problems. It hurts me when I know that I’m not being included.”</p><p>And of course, page 140: “Don’t shout to make a point.”</p><p>Ugggh.</p><p>I then noticed she marked page 151 four times. Four. Times.</p><p>That 12-year-old Alexandria, who we nicknamed “the encourager” sent me to page 151, four times: “Remember that even though I don’t always say it, I appreciate all you do for me.”</p><p>Ahhhh.</p>
