When the ultrasound tech announced, “it’s a girl!” My husband, Blake, announced he was buying a gun. I just cried. My tears were a mixture of jubilation and terror. I pictured a sweet little baby girl half me and half Blake. Then it hit me. OH SHIT. She would be half me.
There are certain worries that come packaged with the X chromosome. Because I am a chronic worry wart and because my anti-anxiety prescription has run out, I have decided to outline the phases of my daughter’s life that are already putting wrinkles on my forehead.
Elementary school-
I am dreading the day when my sweet little Addison gets on the bus to go to school. At 5-months-old, Addison is already in the 95th percentile for height. This data point stresses me out because my nickname in grade school was “Jolly Green Giant”. I was tall, yes, and with a mother who is 5’9” and a father who is 6’4”, Addie doesn’t stand a chance.
Not only was I freakishly tall in grade school, I was not very cute. Even my parents will admit that I went through a rather ugly stage. To make things worse, I was not athletic. I was giant, ugly, and clumsy. People used to look at me and offer condolences to my parents.
“Well, I bet she plays volleyball and basketball,” they would say in response to my height.
Nope.
I did however, have a desire to be a cheerleader and this only brought on more ridicule as I was taller than the football players.I had to have a special uniform made for me because mine was too short.
There is a special place in my heart for the tall chick in the movie Deuce Bigalo: Male Gigolo. It is my favorite movie even though I feel guilty laughing at the part when a man yells, “That’s a huge bitch!”
Though the adversities I faced as a youngster only me made me stronger, I do not wish these lessons upon my children.
Middle school
This is a phase that I am especially scared of because times have changed. I watch the news. Middle schoolers no longer write notes saying I HAVE A CRUSH ON YOU. DO YOU HAVE A CRUSH ON ME? CHECK YES OR NO.
No, these days girls are “sexting” or posting provocative pictures on Facebook.
I am scared to death of my sweet little Addie turning into a pre-pubescent skank. I drive by them everyday at the bus stop and wonder why their mothers let them dress in hoochie skirts and glitter. What was wrong with tight rolled jeans and flannel shirts? It may have been a little much, but at least everything was covered.
Blake and I have already agreed that Addison will NOT be allowed to wear anything with words written across the butt. This fashion statement is simply a bill board that reads LOOK AT MY ASS SICKO. I AM ONLY 12. What it should say is WHAT’S EVEN MORE DISTURBING IS THAT MY MOM BOUGHT THESE SLUTTY SHORTS FOR ME.
I can already imagine my future arguments with Addison regarding what is appropriate school attire. “Addison, I don’t care that all the popular kids wear ‘PINK’ from Victoria’s Secret. I WILL NOT buy your clothes from the same place that I buy my kinky underwear,” I will tell her while drinking a martini.
Hopefully by the time Addie is in middle school, retailers will quit encouraging girls to dress like prosti-teens. Hopefully by then I will get out of my granny panty comfort zone and back into kinky underwear.
High school
I’m not sure what makes me more anxiety ridden about this age- boyfriends or girlfriends?
Girls can be so mean and it’s not just the words they use or the rumors they spread.
I will never forget when my little sister, who is eight years younger than me, came home from school with a black eye. I was so enraged that I got out her school directory and called the bully’s mother. I told Miss Thing that if her daughter ever touched my sister again, I would kick both their asses.
It was an unreasonable Janie moment and I couldn’t stop myself. My mom was so mad. “I’m the mom,” she scolded me. “You had no business getting involved. Kids have to work these things out themselves.” She was probably right, but if someone hurts my kids, incarceration could be in my future.
The B word is another anxiety I have about the high school years. That would cover beer, blunts, and belly button piercings. I know I should be worried about all of the above, but I’m more concerned with boyfriends.
UGH. It is inevitable that Addie will go on a date and hopefully it will end there. In a perfect world Addie would be so busy with sports, charity work, and bible banging that she wouldn’t have time for boys.
I genuinely hope that a serious boyfriend isn’t in the cards for high school. I haven’t yet decided how I will answer the tough questions girls usually ask their mothers.
Mom, do you believe in sex before marriage?
(Um Hell yes. What if you marry a guy and he sucks in bed?)
Mom, was dad your first?
(Um yes. Did my nose just grow larger?)
Do you think that people should live together before they get married?
(Definitely. Hands down. Absolutely.)
College
Ah college, some of the very best years of my life took place at OSU. I recently met up with my college roommates and we all agreed that I am completely screwed.
If Addie makes it to college without me having to kill her, then college will be the big show. A show that will keep me on edge for four years- maybe five.
I may have been an angel with an attitude in high school, but I was hell on wheels in college. If Addie has half my genes and is only half as bad as me, things will still be pretty bad.
My biggest concern is Spring Break. It is a collegiate rite of passage and mine took place in Cancun, Mexico...... the year Snoop Dog was there.
My husband still has the correlating Girls Gone Wild episode because he swears one of my college roommates is featured in the film. I don’t know why he thinks that is so funny. If she was there, I wasn’t far behind.
So here it is. My list of worries. It details every wrinkle that has carved out a line on my face or eventually will. Will my daughter be bullied, will she be freakishly tall, will she decide to be that weird goth girl who wears studded dog collars, will she have confidence, will she have good morals, will she ...... I should probably get my prescription refilled.
Ironically as I write this, Addie wakes up. I can hear her crying on the monitor, wanting to be rocked back to sleep. I think it is a sign to just enjoy the moment and not worry about the future. For now she is so little, so sweet, and so innocent.
For now.
