Em Rusciano: A letter to my teenage daughter

EM RUSCIANO’S daughter is about to turn 14, and things have changed. To avoid a blow-up this is the letter she gave her.

A letter to my teenage daughter

I HAVE a nearly 14 year old daughter.

I fell pregnant with her when I was 21. I was a baby having a baby and from the moment we met I fell deeply in love with her.

We are close.

That gets pointed out a lot.

I attribute that to the fact that I had no idea how to be a parent when I had her and learned on the job with her as my teacher. Imagine Dame Edna raising Hermione Granger from Harry Potter and you are some way to understanding our dynamic.

Many parents of older children have warned me about this age, a couple of well meaning ones have even said that it will feel like she’s angry with me for a few years and then one day she will wake from her hormone induced, parental hatefest and find her way back to me. Obviously, I was having none of that. We would get through this “difficult phase” together. I had visions of Mother/daughter hikes, inspirational beach walks and yoga being done!

Yes, I know. My naivety is almost amusing isn’t it?

As her 14th birthday approaches and the sulky huffing and puffing increases, I now know that trying to stop her gradual emancipation from my side is like trying to stop a tsunami with an umbrella.

So, as I do with most overwhelming things, I wrote about it.

Here is the letter I slipped under her door two days ago as there is no way she would have put up with this kind of emotionally challenging conversation. When we had “the talk” she tried to throw herself from the moving car. My tendency to wear my emotions like a coat of many nerve endings has produced the exact opposite attributes in my child.

Chella Bella,

Right now you are in the kitchen cooking yourself bruschetta, eggs and bacon for breakfast. Most teenagers would settle for some cold pizza and a lemonade, however you are not most teenagers.

Lately I’ve noticed you not calling out to say goodnight when you go to bed. Every night since you were born I have come in to tuck you in and give you a kiss. Now I have to check if the light is out and try to catch you before you doze off. Yes, I have missing out on saying goodnight anxiety!

You are more secretive lately, always tapping away at your phone and not wanting to sit with us in the lounge room of an evening anymore.

At first I took this personally, I thought perhaps that I needed to be more interesting so that I could continue to engage you. I could feel you slipping away from me and it hurt, I always thought we’d be best pals you and I.

I’ve started to realise that you don’t need a pal.

You need a parent.

So reluctantly I acknowledge that I must take a huge step back, that I need to give you the space to make mistakes, to get hurt, to learn and to grow.

I’m not abandoning you or anything babes, I just won’t be shadowing your every move anymore.

I think you are the most brilliant human I know, I am in awe of your brain, your athletic abilities and you emotional intelligence. I am completely and utterly proud of the person you are growing into. I just need to let that happen now, and trust in the job that Dad and I have done so far. It should be pointed out that Dad is handling this situation far better than I am!

Of course I’m still here, just 3 steps behind instead of one. Don’t worry though, I’m a very fast runner and should you ever need me that distance can be overcome in the blink of an eye.

When you have your heart broken by some dickhead boy who doesn’t realise you are perfect. I will be there.

When you have a fight with the girls at school and then one of them goes on a recruitment drive to turn the others against you and then they have a party and don’t invite you. I will be there.

When you get a weird rash in an unspeakable area and have no idea what to do. I will be there.

But only if you ask.

I promise to stop inserting myself into your life like a loud, unwanted, glitter covered, well meaning intruder.

I promise to only ask you five questions instead of 50 when you get home from school, I get that teenagers need their secrets.

I’m sorry I yelled “go pash a boy” out of the car window when I dropped you at your friend’s house yesterday. I will allow you to have these experiences in your own time, I just hope you want to share them with me when you do.

The hard part is, this is where the real parenting starts. Up until now things have been a complete breeze with you, you potty trained yourself in 2 days for goodness sake. My job now is far more subtle and important in helping you to become independent of us and as we all know being subtle is not one of Mummy’s strong points.

Your Dad pointed out my fear of you thinking badly of me, I went to argue with him but couldn’t. He was absolutely spot on there — Damn him! I don’t like it when you’re angry with me however being a good leader sometimes means making unpopular decisions for the greater good, so we’re both going to have to be OK with you being upset with me from time to time.

You have been dropping hints lately that you don’t need me to help so much, so now I’ll just be hanging out around the edges to make sure you’re OK and not in any danger of falling off.

I love you poo face, no matter what, there is nothing we can’t face or solve together.

Oh and please stop leaving wet towels on the floor in your room, it’s gross.

Love,

Mum.

x

Em Rusciano is a comedian, writer, singer and regular news.com.au columnist. You can follow her on Twitter, Facebook and Instagram.