reminder to myself

My dear girls,

I am probably not going to like it when you do this, but I am writing this so one day you can print it out and stick it in my face when I become unreasonable, nutty and obnoxious. Or, simply insecure that you are growing into your very own person.

On our homeschooling journey, we have faced many questions and challenges. Some have been friendly and concerned, others not so. I have endured many questionings from my family, and though I have endeavor with utmost earnest to answer their questions, I failed to bring them to an understanding that we are trying to do what is the best for you in the moment. I have been characterized as unrealistic (if not irresponsible) by wanting to find a "good" school for you (and my idea of a good school basically is one that provides for a well-rounded education, that regards you as a whole being and not a test-scoring machine; that you are to be nurtured and not molded), and by trying to teach you at home. Apparently I am not qualified despite my Masters degree and your father with his PhD is just chopped liver, for we are repeatedly told that you should be sent to school so you can "finally learn properly!"

I do not wish to antagonize relations between you and your extended family, but I do see that our decisions as parents regarding your education have come under attack because it was radically different to what they have experienced and known. And I know that one day, history will re-play itself, for life is often ironic and comic in this way.

So, one day when you come and tell me you are planning to do something that will be different from the way I handle it, or that you are going to be making a decision a world's different as I would, god forbid I do not jump through the roof, throw the dishwasher out the window, scream my hair off, or threaten you with a butter knife. I may resort to eating a copious amount of chocolates (dark ones only, of course), going on a wild night out on the town with similarly wrinkled friends, or embarking on a global shoe shopping spree, but I will remember not to tell you that you are oh-so-wrong because you chose different as I did.

I acknowledge that it will be hard, and may not be executed with much grace (if any), but I will try my best (it will help if cocoa beans are still in production).

Yes, yes, yes, I will remember that you do not belong to me, and that you have your own journey, your own path, and that I live forever with my heart in my mouth because you are my dear precious ones, but I will learn to let go so you can fly and soar. Oh, you may fall, but we all do. But I will not tell you "I told you so." Never ever.

Despite knowing that I will tremble with irritation at this reminder when you shove it in my face, I need to write it. I want to support you unconditionally, I want you to know you have limitless potential and that your world is larger than the boundaries of my thoughts and reason. Perhaps it is not my job to guide you, but rather you to show me the new, unknown, scary-but-exciting possibilities.

I really do love you and I know my mortal limits, so I write this nasty reminder to the future me, who probably will grow old, senile and sarcastic. I may claim that you forged this letter, but it is always worth a try to reason with your not-always-receptive old mother. If all else fails, just treat me to wine and chocolates every night, it should work rather well, a little sincere bribery cannot hurt. Remember: I only eat dark chocolates. (A mistake here could be life-threatening.)

You will find your path, it is your adventure.

Love love love,
your mother