Apr 21, 2011

Sweet Sixteen and Mortified


My oldest daughter turned 16 on Sunday.

When I told others this fact I was often greeted with a gasp and then, "How do you feel about that?!"  I feel fine about it.  Honestly, I stayed in what-do-I-need-to-accomplish mode.  I thought about the birthday cake I would bake from scratch buy from Costco, birthday shopping and carrying out the second part of fulfilling my destiny.  While others are floundering with the doctrinal questions of purpose of life, I have it all figured out.  My first purpose is to give four children birth.  Done.  The second purpose is to mortify them all the days of my earthly existence.  This has brought me a great deal of glee.

The reason I blog.

I've carefully considered the pros and cons of having another driver in the house.  Not that we have an extra car but how nice it will be to send her to pick up a sibling from school when I'm not home or up the street to pick up sour cream from the store.  Since she's still in training, however, I am constantly on call. 

Ironically, it was Sunday morning, as I was reaching for my hypertension medication that I realized she was 16 and old enough to date.  I dropped my pills and ran to my husband in a panic.

"Do you realize she's old enough to date?!"  Yes, he had already considered this and was looking at the Cabella's ad in the Sunday paper. 

Shotguns.

Later in the week I was at a Young Women activity at the church with my daughter.  The theme focused on our heritage.  How do we connect to our ancestors?  Each mother took a turn to tell about her grandmother who taught her how to quilt or sew or cook and they held up a beautiful speciman.  The talent oozed out of their pores.  Tatting, hand quilting, knitting of intricate sweaters and dresses and I knew I was in the company of domestic goddesses.  It would have been intimidating had I not been giddy for my turn to share my heritage. 

I brought a binder with photos, genealogy charts, and typed stories.  I was second to last and knew I could only share a portion of what characteristics my ancestors had passed onto me.  I started with my grandmother's great grandmother, Henrietta, whose husband died shortly before she left Nauvoo with two young boys for the Salt Lake Valley.  She travelled without a husband in the harsh elements. 

Henrietta's surviving son, my ancestor,  lost one arm during his teenage years.  He learned Shoshone and became a pony express rider.  He lost one of his legs in a logging accident and was never quite right after he recovered.   My great, great, great, great grandfather consecutively married three Mary's.  The first Mary appeared to a very distant cousin of mine in Australia in 1978 causing a domino effect that resulted in his wife being my friend on facebook.  Oh, and she's his second cousin.  Another distant grandmother committed suicide in an insane asylum.

Although these snippets seem random, there is a common thread.  My ancestors, bless their hearts, are lunatics. 

Of course, there's always a chance that it will or has skipped a generation which means my grandchildren might have a prayer.




Then again, who wants to date the daughter of a lunatic? 

Want to date my daughter?  Bring it on. 

9 comments:

Gina said...

May I just take this moment to congratulate you for doing a spectacularly good job at mortifying your children. Please continue sharing your knowledge. My eldest is 13. I have 3 more years to reach your standards. It's going to be hard but I'm a quick learner!

M-Cat said...

Listen, if you haven't mortified your children at least once a week, I consider you not doing your motherly duties. It's your job. And apparently you do it well.

Since I work in Young Women's, I was thinking of grabbing that idea your girls did, and then I wondered what I could possibly share about my own Mother that she taught me or that My grandmother taught me.

I don't think swearing or stashing treats to be consumed later would be very applicable.

Klin said...

You are very good at your job :)

I just can't picture Scott with a gun? Can you post a pic of that? from Cabella's of course.

Anne said...

With luck you will have a daughter like mine. She was asked to the prom. It's her first date. I believe when she said "yes" to the guy who asked her (luckily, they are just friends) that it would be no big deal, I would be dropping her off at the school cafeteria like I have for every other dance, and they would just meet up and hang out. It was not until I talked to her about how he was supposed to open the car door for her, etc., that she said, "Why? Aren't you taking me?" After we talked about "dating" her response was "Yuck! I don't want to go to the prom!" I'm just lucky to have found a dress she agrees to wear.

Amy said...

So funny! I do think bringing up lunatics in the family will give a perspective date second thoughts. Good luck with the dating thing. I have all boys so I will be experiencing things from the other side. Though luckily my oldest is only 14.

EmptyNester said...

Just do what I did- every time a boy came over to date one of our lovelies, I was standing in the kitchen with a large, sharp knife and the cutting board. I mentioned that I was pleased to meet him and that if his penis came anywhere near my daughter, I would cut it off. Never had any trouble with boys around here. LOL

CountessLaurie said...

I love that a) your husband would be cleaning the shotgun and b) you think your family is crazy (historically)...

You are totally normal :-)

BandGeekGirl said...

Normal is a setting on a dryer, not something that a person can be.

Thank you for acting mostly appropriate when Erik came to pick me up.

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