daughters

The Gift of Time

Posted on by Lauren

It’s a well-known fact that we have a tendency to over-correct.

I just wonder how many of us recognize when we are doing it. 

I did when it came time to create the annual “Gift of Time” envelopes for my girls. 

A few years ago, in an effort to guarantee one-on-one time with mom or dad, I gifted each girl a stack of 12 envelopes- one for each month. Inside, a card with an activity they could choose to do with just mom or dad- no sisters. 

We were drowning with the responsibility of caring for our health-challenged youngest, not to mention juggling four young kids. The Gift of Time ensured we got that one-on-one time with each daughter. 

But, year-after-year, it turned into expectation. 

When they opened the envelope and it was a trip to the library or a bike ride, instead of the bowling alley or putt-putt, they were crestfallen. 

I realized I was creating presumptuous monsters, instead of appreciated moments. 

So, I’ve paused. Reevaluating. 

Sure, I want that precious time but at what cost?

I spent my adulthood wishing I’d had a closer relationship with my mother, when I was a child. 

But what if my children rely too much on their parents to feel satiated?

Is it possible that I’m setting them up for failure? A childhood so idyllic, it’s difficult to replicate? Is that a crime?

I’ve parented long enough to become comfortable in the gray- the not knowing the next step. 

Instead of forcing my choice, I watch and wait. 

The Gift of Time. 

Aurora Mae Turns 12

Posted on by Lauren

12.

Here you are, baby girl. 

On the precipice of teenage-hood and totally not looking forward to it. 

I get it. 

You were 11 days overdue and never wanting to leave has been your MO. 

I have a recording of you crying about going to college when you were just 6 so it’s nothing new. 

You are a creature of comfort. 

Your bed, your hair, your charisma, the softest. 

In addition to a slew of Taylor Swift themed gifts, I also presented you with a copy of articles I’ve written in your honor over the last eight years. 

You wept in my arms over the article I wrote about my own mom, What I Want You to Know

Because you felt the same about me. 

And it dawned on me. 

Mothers and Daughters are forever. 

You may be 12, 

But we are forever. 

Camille Vaughan Photography – 2020 -all four girls tried on my wedding dress.

Badass

Posted on by Lauren

Everyone warned me of teenage daughters. 

Maybe they forgot that I used to be one. 

I’m not afraid of the road I’ve already traveled, 

Even if it looks different, these days. 

It’s hard, 

But our needs are the same. 

Recognition, empathy and encouragement. 

I love that my tweenage daughter appreciates music and novels. 

I love that my tweenage daughter cares about matters outside of herself.

I love my tweenage daughter’s courage and fearlessness. 

And yes, I love knowing I fostered that. 

She’s a badass. 

Wild Ride

Posted on by Lauren

I wish this story had a happy ending. 

Halfway through the day, it did.

And then reality set in and instead of my nicely wrapped package with a bow, I got the messy masterpiece that is parenting. 

You see, before Christmas I grappled with whether to get my children a Nintendo.  

I never had one as a child and was always jealous of other families. 

I imagined our family playing Mario Cart and Sports. Modern bonding. 

And while that has happened, my concern over screen addiction has also come true. 

So yesterday, I put it away.  

The Nintendo, the iPads, all of the screen games took a little vacation. 

And while they moaned first thing this morning, they also quickly launched into building a fishing boat made out of giant magnatiles, complete with wooden blocks taped to refrigerator magnetic gears, used as the fish they caught.  This boat even had a toilet made out of a cardboard box, so it was legit.

We played Hungry, Hungry Hippo, they painted rocks and even reenacted “ski school”. 

All was well until just before dinner time when the Hanger (hungry anger) set in and they lost. Their. Shit. 

Without screens to distract from their impending starvation, they melted down exclaiming, “THERE’S NOTHING TO DO!”

“Well, then. I’ll just burn the house down.”  

“That seems a little extreme, mom.” 

Yea? So does your so-called starvation. 

But I digress.

Parenting is hard, y’all. 

I’m 12 years into this business and many days I just don’t feel like doing it anymore. 

I keep stumbling and getting back up. It’s thankless and sacrificial and consuming. 

It has taken so much out of me, out of us parents, as individuals. 

And yet, still I know that it has given us more. 

Our children have humbled, inspired and taught us. 

And I suppose in place of a happy ending, I instead recognize that the falls, missteps and exhaustion are all part of the journey. 

And what a wild ride it is.

Matter

Posted on by Lauren

I am not a winning Coach.

The loss this weekend shattered me when, with good intention, my husband commented of the other team, “They were coached well.” 

They were. It was the God’s-to-honest truth. 

Their coach was intentional, level-minded and strategic. 

His girls performed to his expectations without much fanfare. 

Meanwhile, I’m looking my worst player in her eyes and telling her I see her. 

I see her insecurities, worry and anxiety. 

I know she doesn’t feel good enough and at the end of the day, I want her to feel, she’s more than good-enough. She’s her best. 

It’s me. 

I see me. 

I was never good enough and all I ever wanted was for someone to tell me I was.

I am not a winning coach. 

But to someone, I matter. 

They matter.

Listen

Posted on by Lauren

“You’re not LISTENING to me!” she exclaimed. 

The light switch went off. 

I remember feeling that way, too, when I was her age. 

Misunderstood.

Her father and I reviewed our game plan and saw no error. 

And yet, that’s the funny thing about plans. 

They’re just that. 

Plans. 

We had good intentions. 

But so is the path to hell. 

I showed my hands. 

“Ok.”  I said. 

“Really?” she replied, in disbelief. 

“Yea. We’re just here to support you.” 

And maybe that’s all we ever need to hear. 

Camille Vaughan Photography

Three Words

Posted on by Lauren

It’s just three words so why are they the hardest to say aloud?

“I. Need. Help.”

Her teachers were shocked: “She is so happy and helpful in class. She has friends and is on honor roll. I never saw this coming.”

How many times have we heard this same story of surprise? 

At what point do we not wait until it becomes irreversible regret and start paying attention to the little signs?

Depression is not sudden. 

It’s gradual. 

We know this but we don’t want to label it so we look for other explanations. 

Meanwhile, they continue drowning.

Not my child. 

“But if I tell her what’s wrong, I’ll cry!” She laments. 

It’s better than crying in the bathroom, I remind her.

School therapists are like life guards; on the side ready to offer help when needed. 

Our struggles may be a part of our story but they don’t have to be the end.

But first, we must take the hardest, most important step. 

Admit that we are struggling and ask for help. 

It’s just three words.

Camille Vaughan Photography

Lead

Posted on by Lauren

“Let me lead.” I plead. 

Do you trust me?  Then, let me lead.

Faith over fear. 

We’re in this together. I explain to her. 

It’s not me against you. 

Instead, me with you. 

I walk alongside you, child. 

I witness your growth, next to you. 

Encouraging you. Believing in you. Cheering you on. 

Not against you. With you.  

Arms linked, we march towards your bright future. 

Until I let go. And you lead. 

I trust you. 

Faith over fear. 

You lead. 

Camille Vaughan Photography

Thankless

Posted on by Lauren

Y’all. They cute but let’s be real. 

This is the most thankless job I’ve ever signed up for. 

I guess this is what the mid-life crisis is? When you’re too far to turn around and make a different choice?

I was almost a screenwriter. An actress. Famous.

Instead, I’m a mom. A coach. A teacher. A writer. 

Oh, wait. 

My life isn’t over just because I chose differently.

It’s different, yes. Richer, yes. Harder, yes. 

But I’m not done.  

I’m just getting started. 

This is the most thankless job I’ve ever signed up for. 

But I’ll be damned if I don’t embrace the choice I made and inspire children to follow their own dreams.  

Let’s be real. 

They cute, ya’ll. 

Camille Vaughan Photography