Posted in birthdays, celebration, change, identity, jesus, me, parenting

she turned 4: on working out what it means to mother a daughter

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It’s become a tradition on this blog to write a little tribute post to my children around the time of their birthdays. It feels such a big deal, somehow, when they’re growing so fast, to celebrate each year with gratitude and amazement at the people they’re becoming. Perhaps, when they’re 18, I’ll give them a little book of all their blog posts, so they can see what they were like, or how I perceived them, at each age.

(It’s also becoming tradition that these birthday blogs mark the return of blogging after an inevitably silent summer. I’m sorry. What can I say? I tried to write, I drafted a few bits and pieces, but in all honesty we were having non-stop summer fun and loveliness, and there was barely enough time to get to the computer, let alone publish something I was proud of. Sorry.)

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Anyway, the girl TURNED FOUR. You read that right. In the blink of an eye – or so it seems – the scrunched-up, dark-haired, screaming newborn has become a confident, intelligent, creative individual. She’s brilliant company, and she drives me up the wall. She’s eccentric and quirky (and sometimes just WEIRD), yet also sensible, thoughtful and kind. She’s all of these things. And in this last year, when her older brother has been at school, and she and I have spent an awful lot more time together, there have been two big questions on my mind. What kind of mother-daughter relationship do I want to build? And how do I raise her to be a strong, secure, content and self-assured woman of God?

The best mother-daughter relationships I know stem from a genuine interest in each other, and hence a delight in spending time together, which is sustained into adulthood. And it doesn’t start at a particular age – in fact, the older a child gets, the harder it is to ‘begin’ this closeness. So, in my relationship with Missy (not her real name, for blog newcomers!) I need to be genuinely interested in all the things that matter to her. At the moment, playing shops or dolls or dressing up as Elsa may seem pretty superficial, but I know that if I ignore her attempts at building a relationship with me now, she’ll stop sharing her life so openly in the future, and I’ll regret it forever. Recently, I’ve tried to make a conscious effort to be more active in our time together – to put my phone in a different room so I’m free from distractions; to save the housework for later; to follow her ideas for how we spend our days. In short: to send the message, loud and clear, that I am here for her, rooting for her, delighted in her.

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And I’ve noticed so much about her: her attention to the teeniest detail (in particular when it comes to buggies – she’s obsessed with all things doll-related, but especially double buggies!); her contentment to just mooch around the house, have a read, help with (her choice of) jobs; the extent of her fascination with babies; the closeness of her relationship with her brother; her fearlessness; her love of singing and music; her growing independence when it comes to being creative, and making things for others. I love spending time with this crazy girl – and since we only have another year before she abandons me for school, I intend to spend it wisely.

The second question I have no easy answers to. All around me I see women struck down with various forms of low self-esteem and confidence. It manifests itself in all sorts of ways: depression, anxiety, panic attacks, eating disorders, alcoholism, workaholism, consumerism/materialism, unhealthy body image and/or over-dependence on beauty products/regimes. What is it about us girls that we struggle to accept who God made us to be? If I’m honest, it makes me fearful for Missy’s future – how will she cope with growing up female, with womanhood, with resisting the unhelpful pressures all around her?

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The simple answer is that I can’t do much about this. My own parenting, much as it’s usually well-considered and thoughtful, is deeply flawed. My own insecurities peep through regularly, as do the parts of my character I would rather my children never saw. Missy will grow up as much wounded by my sin as by her own. There is no way out.

But there is prayer and there is a God who made her and loves her and wants her to blossom into the person He created her to be, fully rooted in Christ, and able to use her unique giftings for his purposes. So, as we celebrate four years of having our beautiful Missy in our lives, I re-dedicate her to her loving Father, trusting that He will hold her tight, and praying for her relationship with Him to flourish as our mother-daughter relationship has done this year.

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Author:

I'm a stay-at-home mum to four kids between 1 and 6, and was formerly a teacher. I blog about living life as a disciple of Christ whilst coping with the demands and excitements of having small children. I've been battling an addiction with chocolate for many years. I'm generally winning, but my teeth are not.

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