Friday, June 7, 2013
My own Mother's Prayer for Her Daughter (in addition to all that great stuff Tina Fey has already written)
Dear Lord, Please watch over my dear girl, as she learns that Math is Hard, not because she's a girl, but because she's not a computer. Give her strength to keep doing the hard stuff anyway. Place at least one teacher in her life who thinks everything she does is golden, and place at least one teacher in her life who thinks she has an attitude problem, from day one of class, even though she doesn't say a word.
Guide her away from exclusive groups, i.e. cliques, gangs, cults, the Illuminati, and Mommy Groups that look down on moms who don't breastfeed.
May she find someone who she will call her Bosom Friend, and may that friend understand the reference to Anne and Diana, instead of looking at her kind of weird when she says "Bosom Friend" out loud.
When the time comes that she has to make a decision between a bikini and a one-piece, may her decision be guided by the color or cost of the swimsuit, and not by societal pressures to be sexy, or pure, or any other word used to describe women that gives me hives.
May she never blame Thee for not giving her a strong singing voice, or thick eyelashes, or violet-colored eyes, but may she thank Thee daily for giving her Whitney Houston songs to delusionally sing along to anyway, mascara from Target that works just as well as the expensive stuff, and colored contacts, if those are the things her heart truly desires.
May she find the humor in Quentin Tarantino films, when the timing is right, but may she never look at any of the characters as her personal heroes. May her yearbook quote be something from a great poet, or thinker, or a John Hughes film. Anything is fine, really, as long as she stays away from hate speech or Grateful Dead lyrics.
Watch over her when the time comes for her to pick a college major. Give her the foresight to not pick her future career based on the boy she likes, or the rumors of easiest professors. Basing it on how cool it sounds when she talks about it at family reunions is fine, obviously.
We thank Thee, Heavenly Parents, for giving her a quick mind, and a strong, able body. May that combination become quickly apparent to anyone who thinks they can take advantage of her gentle, giving spirit-- preferably in the form of clever retorts in response to harsh words, and swift kicks to the groin in response to unwanted advances.
May she learn to love her kitchen, not because of any dumb idea that that's her Place, but so that she understands that McDonald's and Taco Bell don't care what she feels like an hour from eating what's in their kitchens.
Give her courage to ask if she can hold babies that don't belong to her, confidence to keep holding those babies, even if they cry, and character to give those babies back to their moms when everything in her tells her to grab a strong hold of those chubby little thighs and make a run for Mexico.
I'm sure I'll have more things to ask of Thee when stuff comes up that I could have never anticipated. (The Future isn't seriously going ahead with that idea to make robots made specifically for people who need to cuddle, is it? If so, expect prayers concerning that). Because it seems that that's the nature of Mothers who have Daughters. We just never stop worrying, and there is always something we just never considered needing to worry about. I know that somehow, that's part of your Grand Design.
Grant me the strength to resist thinking that I have nothing more to worry about... even if the time comes that she thinks everything I do is great and perfect, and I can do no wrong, and she never puts up any resistance to me or my ideas of what she needs. It's then that I know she's the most lost. Amen.
Posted by Renee at 4:19 PM