Channeling my inner Sara Bareilles

Two years ago, two days after her 13th birthday, my daughter created a Facebook profile, and we became FB friends.

Last year, I wrote a rather lovely (if I do say so myself) post to her on her birthday.

She turned 15 two days ago. She's wondering where her post is THIS year. And therein lies the problem. Because, while I can be guaranteed to rant about any number of things on any given day, and while I get choked up and emotional on a more than regular basis, it's not always easy to write those lovely, emotional, posts. You don't want to just repeat what you said the previous year, but honestly, I don't know that I could do much better than that.

And, you know, I haven't done well writing on command since I finished college. I write when I'm moved to, and my brain doesn't always keep pace with my life, or my emotions. Don't get me wrong, I love my girl, but nothing was coming to me other than, "Good Lord, how is my baby 15?" She is blog-worthy, but I dunno that that sentence is.

So, I've mulled. And thought. And watched her when she wasn't looking. All the things Moms do. And, I think I'm ready for her 15th birthday post (though, there's still that subtext of "Good Lord, how is she 15?").

A Love Letter to my Daughter (sorry, Sara, I'm better at epistles than lyrics).

My darling Grace, Gracie-belle, Graciella Isabella,

This is an odd time for you to live in, my love. On the one hand, you have opportunities that women my age never really had. You spent your early years on co-ed soccer, baseball, and basketball teams. When I was a little girl, those things were, in the best cases, not taken for granted; in the worst case, they were still being fought for. You live in a world where there's a possibility of an American presidential election between two women, yet women still, on average, make less than men. You live in a world where the notion of women as sexual creatures is finally beginning to be accepted, yet you, more than your brothers, are judged by who you love. You live in a world where competent, strong women are becoming the norm, yet you, more than your brothers, will be judged on your clothes, your voice, and your face.

Some of that sucks. And yet, to quote the old Virginia Slims commercials, we've come a long way, baby.

You come from a long line of strong women (if I do say so myself). One of your great-grandmothers was a flapper, hung out with bootleggers, and married when she was ready, at the ripe old age of 29. In 1928, that made her nearly an old maid. Another great-grandmother worked for Ma Bell before there were Baby Bells, and by doing so guaranteed not only her retirement, but also your Great-Gramps'. One of your grandmothers was a single mom before it was "normal". The other was independent enough to insist on paying off the debts she had before marriage...even if it meant spending the first six months of her married life 1000+ miles away from your Granddaddy.

You have all of their strength, and more. You are independent, courageous, strong, and vibrant.

And, at times, you're scared. Or anxious. Or stressed.

And that's OK, sweetie. Because, you don't have to be strong all the time. All of the strong women in your lineage have had their moments when they're confused, or scared, or whatever. Trust me. We have.

Because, honestly, that's what makes us strong. The ability to admit weakness, fear, anxiety, or uncertainty, all show that we're strong enough to deal with our doubts. Or other's doubts.

You, my love, are a rock-star. You have already dealt with more than anyone should. You already have a greater sense of self than many. I wish that I had had half your assurance when I was your age.

But, you know, it's OK. Because while I may not have had the self-knowledge that you have, I have you. You have no idea the joy it has been to watch you grow, particularly over the past couple of years.

You are not me. But, Oh, my love. You have made me a better mother, and a better woman. You are, and will ever be, my Grace (in every sense of the word).

So, go forth, and do, and be wonderful. Don't accept the status quo, and don't forget where you've come from. Be yourself (unless you can be Batman), because you, my dear, are pretty damn wonderful.

And, never forget that your Mama loves you. Even if I'm late with your birthday post!