I’ve spent the past three years studying my daughter. I gazed into her shadowy ultrasound photo like it was a crystal ball, trying to decipher her nose. Her ear. The slope of her cheek. She was born and I counted her eyelashes. Traced her knees with my fingertips. Memorized the exact location of the freckle on her right thigh.
I know her favorite color—no easy task, since she’s three and it changes almost daily. (Today it’s purple.) I know her favorite fruit is pear and that she likes her underwear to match her dresses. I know she’s scared to sleep without the lamp on, but doesn’t want anyone to call her a baby. I know the exact chin-lengthening, lower-lip-stretching expression that means she’s really, really anxious about something. I know by the glitter in her eyes when she’s about to dissolve into giggles.
I can spot a temper tantrum from twenty paces. I know when she’s hungry, whiny, overtired, over-stimulated, when she needs to be held and when she needs to be left alone. Am I psychic? Do I have superpowers? No. I’m her mom. Knowing everything about her is my job.
But no one ever told me my kid would know me. That she’d turn to me at breakfast one morning, aghast, and exclaim “But Mommy, you wore that skirt yesterday!” That she’d realize, with wisdom far beyond her three years, that me repeating an outfit twice in one week meant something was wrong in the world.
She knows I take skim milk and one Sweet’N Low in my coffee. Sometimes, at restaurants, she’ll fish a pink packet out of the ceramic container and hand it to me before I even think to ask. She knows, by the tone of my voice, who’s on the other end of the telephone. (“Hi Daddy!” or “It’s Grandma!” or “Please take Mommy off your list.”) She will always offer me the blue M&M, the blue straw, the blue crayon from the box. “Because blue’s your favorite color, Mama.”
She knows when I’ve had enough, when I’m frustrated or silly or sad. She knows I don’t like blueberries, that I love pomegranates and carrot juice and salmon avocado rolls. She notices, and comments, when I get a new bag or dig out an ancient pair of jeans. She tells waiters to leave the mayonnaise off my hamburger. She traces the circles under my eyes when I’ve stayed up too late. “You look tired, Mommy. Did you have scary dreams?”
Who is studying who here? Who is responsible for who? Is she freakishly observant for such a tiny little person? Is she seeing more than she should?
There’s such a thing as knowing too much. It’s OK for me to recognize her triumphs and struggles. That’s the way it’s supposed to be. But I’m definitely not ready to have my own flaws on display so soon. I wanted to keep them hidden. At least for a little while.
Sometimes I think I’m failing as a parent when I realize how much time she spends focused on me—my eating habits, my wardrobe patterns, my expression when I read a funny text. Maybe I’m not keeping her entertained or stimulated enough. Maybe she should be paying more attention to the world around her and less to the way I like my coffee.
Maybe I drink too much coffee.
Or maybe, right now, I am her world. Just like she is mine. And maybe she thinks it’s her job to know me, just as I’ve made it mine to absorb and memorize every detail of her. A day might come, too fast and too soon, when she’ll look through me, not at me. When what I’m wearing will simply be embarrassing, whether I’ve worn it once or a thousand times. And when the last thing in the world she wants to do is spend all her time paying attention to her mother.
So I’ll try to enjoy these days of scrutiny. It’s kind of nice to be known like this. And I always get dibs on the blue crayon in the box. Because blue’s my favorite color.
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This was so sweet. My son is 2 1/2 and I slowly see the things he takes in about us but never thought about it being his job, as it is my job to know everything about him.
thank you! I really do think she thinks she’s SUPPOSED to be watching me…she’d make an excellent spy
I think it is a mother/daughter thing. My daughter just turned 12 and the only person who knows me as well as she does is my own mother. She can tell from a flicker in my face what is wrong or what I am thinking. My son who is 13 does not do this. I think it is the beginning of a woman’s intuition
That’s so interesting…I never thought about it being a female thing. My son is only eight months but now I’m dying to know if he’ll show the same sort of scrutiny or if it really is a her-and-I thing. Women’s intuition is such a powerful thing, I’ll be glad if she’s developing it early!
well………that was just the sweetest thing EVER.
aw, THANK YOU!
Aww, Jenny I find it so adorable that your daughter knows you so well. To me, it’s a sign of her love for you, and of the fact that right now you are her world. She might go to preschool, have friends and other family members that she loves, but ultimately you are her Mommy. And Mommy is the #1 most important to her. I hope my own daughter knows me so well when she is 3.
Thanks Megan! And I’m sure your daughter will
What a beautiful post. Found you through Leigh’s blog.
thank you so much! And thanks to Leigh for her very awesome shout out. Love her blog too
This is beautiful. I have four children, and there is one who knows me like your daughter knows you. Thank you for telling us not only about you, but the internal dialogue you have as you consider how she knows you and what it means. I think she will love this post in particular when she;s old enough to read and understand
thank you so much. I never thought about her reading it, but yes, I’ll save it for her and show her someday…
This post is awesome!! My sons are freakishly aware also. They are my constant reminder of my less than perfect self. They, too, know how I drink my coffee, and are always the first to notice when I spill some on myself. They are all too aware of my disabled short-term memory and will say: “Mom, I told you I wanted OJ. You forgot again!”
But, as you said, there will come a time when they don’t want to know us at all and lucky for us (not so much for them) we will have their undivided focus and love for us well documented in blogoshpere!
thank you so much! Another of E’s favorite things to do is to point out when I forget stuff : “Mommy, you left the milk on the counter!” or “I’m not wearing a diaper for my nap!” Which is helpful…but embarrassing, too
This is so warm and heartfelt…what a beautiful post that your daughter will someday read and cherish!
thank you so much, Natalie!
What a lovely post!
I have 19 month old twin daughters. I see them watching me, scrutinizing everything I do–the way I dress, the way I put on make-up, the way I clean. Then the mimic how I do all those things.
It’s precious, but along with that comes a feeling of the immense responsibility of having my every move noticed by my daughters. They see when I eat a cookie instead of fruit, they see when I’m frustrated, they see it all. It makes me so aware of what I do, because they mimic and learn Life from me.
What a huge beautiful responsibility!
Thank you for this lovely, thought-provoking post!
Love this! Sounds like you’re doing a good job mama!
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