Oh, Honestly!

Real Life for Real Moms

A Letter to My Teenage Daughter While You’re Still a Little Girl

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Letter to Daughter

Photo Credit: Sha-Lam Photography

A Letter to My Teenage Daughter While You’re Still a Little Girl

Dear Annelise,

You spoke three words to me tonight that took firm hold of my heart (and no, they weren’t those three words). As I’ve pondered them, I’ve realized it’s time to write you a letter; a letter you won’t read for a long time to come.

You are two years old right now, years away from becoming an adult and forging a life of your own.

Those years will crawl for you; a slow progression of childhood joys, preteen growing pains, and teenage angst, which will occasionally jumble together in a confusing mix that leaves you wondering who you are, where you’re going, and whether it’s possible to just stay a kid forever or speed up time to finally be an adult already.

For me, on the other hand, those years will fly; a speeding bullet of bittersweet emotions, which will occasionally jumble together in a mixture of joy, frustration, and exasperation that leaves me wondering who you are, how you got there, and always always always whether it’s possible to just keep you my baby forever.

Sometimes I wonder what you’ll be like when you turn eighteen and head off to college, but more than that, I wonder what our relationship will be like when that happens. I know the mother-daughter paradigm calls for a tenuous connection during the teen years, and as much as I’d like to believe we’ll somehow avoid all of that, I’m realistic enough to know that even the best of relationships experience rough patches.

So in case we lose our way somewhere in the ensuing sixteen years and you find yourself standing some distance from me on the day you leave the nest, I want you to know what our relationship is like right now, when you’re two. Because sometimes the best way to move forward toward someone is to look back on how you used to be.

Right now you are a tiny bundle of sass and pizazz. I love to stare at your pixie face with it’s creamy skin, wide blue eyes, rosebud mouth, and perfect nose that is just the tiniest bit crooked (which, by the way, was one of the first things I noticed about you when you were born, not because I saw it as a flaw, but because my nose is exactly the same way). You are shy in new situations, but quickly become the vivacious, outgoing girl we know at home. You are constantly making noise: talking, singing, humming, screeching, crying. And the facial expressions, oh my! You have more personality than I know what to do with, and although it’s exhausting, I love every minute of it (except for the minutes when I wonder if my eardrums will rupture from the pitch of your screams… in those moments I find you less than delightful).

Perhaps I’m so in awe of you because your budding personality is what I always hoped mine would be. While I am shy and reserved, unsure and awkward, you are unabashedly open. You sing at full volume, raising your arms like you’re the star in the grand finale of a Broadway show. You love to be the center of attention, while I hide from the spotlight. There’s a good chance that as time goes by you will grow more subdued, maybe even more like me, but I hope you’ll always maintain at least a spark from this fire of your toddlerhood.

As the only other girl in our family of five, I feel a sense of camaraderie with you that is different from the relationship I share with your brothers. Whether it is real or imagined is yet to be seen, but I’ve soaked in every girly moment we’ve shared and I am hopeful that there will be many more to come. You’ve already shown your interest in clothing, and since I seem to lack all but the most basic fashion sense, I will rely on you in the years to come to keep me from falling into the Pit of Motherly Frumpiness.

It’s probably a little foolish to say this to a two year old, and maybe I’m looking into it too deeply, but I think part of what makes us work is the balance we’ve struck between being mother and daughter and being friends. I set limits where they’re necessary and correct you when the need arises, but we also love to be silly together and you know unequivocally that I am, and always will be, your biggest fan. Our relationship will be forced to change when you leave the nest, but I hope we can continue to strike the right balance as you grow into womanhood.

One of the many blessings you’ve provided me has been the ease with which you go to bed. For the past week or two, though, you’ve wanted to read extra books, sit in the chair to rock longer than usual, and bounce back and forth between cuddling Daddy and cuddling me; basically anything to stretch out our time together. Tonight, as I finally laid you in your bed, you uttered three little words in your sweet voice that tugged hard on my heartstrings, “Don’t leave me.”

Sixteen years from now, we will reverse positions. I will be the one wanting to drag out our time just a little bit longer. I will be the one asking you to sit with me for a few extra minutes. And as you head for the door, everything in me will want to scream, “Please don’t leave me!”, but I won’t. I will hug you tight, then let you go, knowing that you are doing exactly what you should be doing. Knowing that just like that little girl who spread her arms wide as she sang her heart out, you will now spread your wings wide as you live your heart out.

There are three phrases you say multiple times each day: “Don’t touch me!” (which is usually directed at your brothers), “Watch me!”, and “Mommy, come!” I hope as you grow, you will continue to say those three phrases. The first to all the boys who will no doubt be lining up for your attention, and the second and third to me. Because wherever this world takes you and whoever you end up becoming, just remember one thing. No matter how far apart we are, physically or emotionally, all you have to say is, “Watch” or “Come” and I will be there in a heartbeat.

I love you at two and I love you at eighteen. Always and forever.

Love,

Mommy

 

About Lauren

If you enjoy picture-perfect home decor, perfectly prepared recipes, and perfectly behaved children, you've come to the wrong place. Meet Lauren. She isn't perfect, but she's perfectly real.

Comments

    • Lauren says

      Thanks Erica. It’ll be interesting to see as the years go by how what I say might change. I’m sure my daughter will be different at 8 than she is at 2, and different at 18 than she is at 8. I write my kids letters on their birthdays every year too, so it’s a good way to remember what they’re like at each stage. Thanks for reading!

  5. Marilyn says

    Lauren this is absolutely beautiful, just like you and your precious daughter. You have written so beautifully what every mom feels. Thank you.

  6. Cynthia says

    I wrote a letter very much like that to my daughter when she was a year old. During my many moves it got misplaced.
    I am currently working on a beautiful letter to her now as she just started college about a month ago. I want her to know much of what my previous letter said plus more! I will be sending it along with a care package that will have a lot of little reminders from home as well as all of favorite goodies!
    You are right though, time flies by just as you described…like a speeding bullet full of emotions and memories!
    I’m sure your daughter will love your letter!

  7. kristi says

    Sigh. Sniff. Such a beautiful letter to sweet Annelise. You’re inspiring me to start writing to my kids now, too. Love you, Lau!

    • Lauren says

      Do it! I read a blog post by a mom who was upset that there weren’t many pictures of her with her kids and she was worried that if anything ever happened to her, they wouldn’t really remember her. Then her husband reminded her of all the letters she had written to them and she realized that her words to them were an even better gift than a picture of her. Not that I think anything will happen to either of us, but even if we live to 115, it’s a wonderful gift for them to have 🙂

  8. Anna @ The Beauty Section says

    This definitely made me cry! I’m not a mom so I was thinking of this from the perspective of being a daughter. My mom and I are so close still to this day, and I’m 27. I pray you and your daughter will be the same way too! 🙂

    • Lauren says

      Thanks Anna! I’m glad it has meaning from both perspectives! My mom and I are really close too, so I know I can look forward to forming a friendship with my grown daughter some day 🙂

  9. Michelle says

    I read this with Jessie, and she laughed, looked at me, then hugged me in a choke-hold fashion. 🙂 ah, the fleeting years of childhood. I am missing her already and she’s not even gone yet. 🙁 Well written as always!

    • Lauren says

      Aww, this makes me tear up a little! It’s kind of nice to know that it’s not just us moms who look towards that day with a little bit of dread.

  10. Christa Balmas says

    Have I told you how much I love and appreciate you and your writing? This is beautiful Lauren! Annelise will appreciate this so much one day. Maybe not in 16 years, but certainly the day will come! 🙂 Thank you, Lauren… for being such an inspiration!!

  13. Tammy @ creativekkids says

    Now I’m sad. I have only 6 years left with my oldest–and although we have great times, we are entering the pre-teen finding ourself troubles. Treasure the time. And I might steal your letter. You write so beautifully.

    • Lauren says

      It really does! My kids are still little, but I’m still blown away by how fast each season passes. It’s a good reminder to enjoy every stage.

  16. Judy says

    So beautiful! I’ve been writing letters to my kids since before my first miscarriage. Those ones will stay with me, but the rest I plan on giving to my kids when they are grown. I don’t know exactly when, somehow I feel like my heart will tell me when it’s time. Thank you for sharing yours!

    • Lauren says

      I agree; I think you’ll know when the time is right! My kids don’t know much about what I do right now with this blog, but someday they’ll understand it more and I’ll share my letters with them too. I think it’s a nice thing to be able to pass on.

  17. Georgia says

    This is soo sweet. I have noticed that only daughters tend to be so close to their moms (Lucky!). This made me think a lot about my daughters and what I would want to pass on to them.. I need to write some letters too. Thanks sooo much for this!

    • Lauren says

      Thanks Georgia! I really hope we continue to have a close bond. I’m one of four girls and we’re all close to our mom, so I have an ideal in mind 🙂

  19. Jennifer | The Deliberate Mom says

    Good grief… I’m bawling.

    What a beautiful, beautiful post.

    I love everything about it… I was wondering what those three words were and when you shared them, I heard my youngest daughter’s voice.

    Thank you for sharing.
    xoxo

  20. Jes @ Deadpan Diaries says

    “Watch me!” and “Mommy, come!” I still here a lot of that at my house, and while I sometimes wish there was a 5 minute pause in that chorus, I’m hoping with you that I hear those phrases until my kids are 60.

    Sweet post!

  21. Bev says

    Such a beautifully written post! Sometimes I imagine what my daughter (now 15 months) will be like as a teenager. I admit, it scares me a bit, but I also have faith that she will be a beautiful (inside & out) caring, intelligent person. I hope that she appreciates me then as much as she does now! Thanks for sharing, stopping by from SITS.

    • Lauren says

      Thanks Bev! It is scary to think about the teenage years. We just have to do the best we can now and pray for the best then!

  22. Sarah (@StepsWithSarah) says

    Not going to lie, so teary reading this! I have 3 girls and all I can do is reflect on the relationship I had with my mother and hope that the relationship I have with my girls is less bumpy 🙂

  23. Charlotte says

    Well, this just made me tear up. A lot. How incredibly sweet, and I love that you wrote these words to your daughter today so that maybe in 16 years when your little girl is getting to leave the nest or perhaps she’s going through that angst-y phase of rebellion or you’re just at a crossroads in your relationship you can look back and remember how much those three little words touched you.

    Sniff.

    I love this. So very much. Also your daughter’s name? Absolutely beautiful.

    • Lauren says

      Thank you so much Charlotte! Sometimes I wonder what my kids will think when they get older and can read my writing. I hope it’s something they cherish. I know I’ll look back and be happy I wrote to them.

  24. Mariet - Practicingnormal says

    What a beautiful letter. Two of my girls are on the brink of their teenage years and I miss the little bodies that I could pick up and cuddle. It does not matter how old they are, they still want to know that their mom will ‘watch’ and ‘come’ when they need her.

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