By: Jamie Miller
Date: Sep. 13, 2016
My 4-year-old daughter approaches me with glistening eyes, saying, “Mom, I lost the princess contest. Emma and Lila won.” Emma and Lila are her imaginary pals, and in her whimsical game, she’s declared herself the loser to characters that exist only in her imagination.
This moment encapsulates my greatest challenge with her: the disconnect between us.
From day one, I was a tomboy. Once I could pick my outfits, it was all jeans and T-shirts. I chose Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles over dolls any day. While my friends were off shopping, I was at home yelling at the TV during football games with my parents. My interests were a far cry from traditional feminine pursuits.
In stark contrast, my daughter embodies every stereotype of a little girl. Pink is her jam, followed closely by purple, and she would rock princess dresses every single day if I allowed it. Her pretend play is an elaborate saga, complete with drama and diamonds. When she throws a tantrum, her performance could easily snag her an Oscar — or even several.
She is everything I’m not, making it hard for us to connect. I worry constantly that I just don’t get her, and she doesn’t get me. Trust me, I put in the effort. I listen intently to her tales of royal escapades, I cheer when she twirls in her tiara, and I try to engage in her imaginary disputes with Emma and Lila, all the while suppressing my eye rolls at the sheer absurdity.
It doesn’t help that I have a blast with my 3-year-old son. We build with blocks, wrestle, and race toy cars, and it’s clear we share a language. I chalk it up to a special mother-son bond forged in utero.
But that doesn’t alleviate the guilt and fear I feel. Guilt that I’m not connecting with my daughter, guilt that I’m not making enough effort, guilt that I fail to understand my own child. The fear is even worse. The fear that this disconnect will always exist, that I’ll never have that close relationship depicted in every feel-good movie.
Deep down, I recognize that she’s just 4. I know she’ll grow, change, and explore countless interests. One day, we’ll find common ground over coffee, laughing and sharing stories, and I hold onto that hope for our future.
For now, though, I’ll cuddle her. I’ll wrap my arms around her tiny frame, kiss the top of her head, and sing that silly song I made up when she was a baby. I’ll remind myself that she carries part of my DNA, so there’s love and hope in our connection. And as every parent knows, on some days, that’s all we can cling to.
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Summary:
This article reflects on the challenges of a mother trying to connect with her ‘girly’ daughter while feeling more aligned with her son. The author shares her struggles with guilt and fear over their relationship, but ultimately expresses hope for a future where they can bond over shared experiences.