Oil And Water

There are alot of things about raising 4 girls that scare the crud out of me.  Good old Mother Nature, for one.  We might as well just put a huge sign on our front door one week a month saying, "Enter at your own risk!".  And driving... ugh.  This one makes me feel all panicky if I dwell on it too long.  Princess #1, yeah, I'd trust her behind the wheel... but #2?  #3?  Uh, let's just hope they raise the driving age to, like, THIRTY.  Let's see, what else?  Oh yes.  Boys.  'Nuff said.  Oh and I can't forget just the sheer amount of money it's going to cost me in the end - proms, car insurance, college, weddings, etc. etc. etc.

Feeling panicky with me yet?

But there's one thing in particular that weighs heavily on my mind more than all that above.  The one thing that I worry about, constantly think about, pray about and probably drive the hubs crazy talking about.  And that one thing is my relationship with each of my princesses.

Ever notice how the mom/daughter relationship is rarely ever referred to in warm, fuzzy words?  Sure, maybe once the daughter is a grown woman herself.  But when you're talking children, young girls, and (deep breath) teenagers, the amount of sap is usually reserved for a description between a daddy and his daughter, or a mama and her boy.  Moms and daughters?  Like oil and water.

In fact, I think women love to recount their glory days as a rebellious teenager and regale their audiences with tales of strife between themselves and their mother.  It's like the women who walk around telling pregnant women that their labors were 36 hours long and they pushed for 4 hours and they had a 4th degree tear from here to there....  Do I really need to hear this?  There's something about claiming that no one else had it worse than you.

But all those stories do is terrify me.  Because I so do not want that.  What mother does really?  We give birth to these precious, innocent, dependent little souls.  And we spend the next 18 years teaching them how to fly, so that ultimately they leave the nest (and us).  And I don't think any mother, looking down at their precious newborn (boy or girl) anticipates or looks forward to living in angst and constant turmoil.

So how do you get there?  Or better yet, how do you avoid getting there?  What is it that causes strife to exist at all?  What needs to be happening in a home to foster a safe, close and intimate relationship between a mother and her daughter?  These are the questions I'm dwelling on these days.

My friends, I'd love to hear your thoughts on this.  Is this something you think about?  Are you hoping to improve upon the relationship you had with your own mother?  Do you have ideas in mind for how to keep your home relatively turmoil-free during the traditionally tumultuous teen years?