Every so often, usually in the dead of winter when I’m feeling pretty confident in life, I take steps to vex myself.
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.
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.
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.”
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.
Inside the front cover, my first beloved daughter wrote: “I love U, Mom — check tabs.”
On a separate paper, she had tabbed eleven specific pages.
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!”
My sweet little maiden also did not tab page 51: “Make sure I have a quiet place and a regular time to do homework.”
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.
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.”
Nope, the little “know-it-all” missy that lives in my house marked pages like page 65: “Remember, I can’t read your mind.”
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.”
And of course, page 140: “Don’t shout to make a point.”
Ugggh.
I then noticed she marked page 151 four times. Four. Times.
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.”
Ahhhh.
