Your last post (A love letter, on your birthday)
I don’t know exactly when I stopped writing about you. It feels like it’s been a long time, though it’s not like I ever made it official… it was just an instinct I followed, a dog with my nose hovering a half inch above the ground. I could probably go back through these archives and pinpoint just when, but I never do that and I don’t feel like doing that today. I’d rather sit right here at the kitchen table, steeping in the sweet wake you left when you gushed out of here this morning, a blur of freckles and elbows and anticipation. On your tenth birthday.
I know that I used to write about you without apology. Little things you’d said, or funny things you’d done, like the time you held that funeral for your underwear. I remember writing about the ways I was worried you were just like me, posting pictures that came the closest to capturing your spirit, your subtle presence, the complexities of you. I remember writing about you coming out of your shell with tae kwon do, and who knows, maybe that’s when it started for me, the shutting down publicly, the protecting. I don’t know that I’ve changed all that much, but you most certainly have.
In fact, you’d be mortified if you knew I was posting this.
Normally, I’m not the kind of parent to press on in the face of my kids’ horror. I don’t force public kisses or wave from the parking lot in my festive sweater vest. I think carefully about how I look and what I say in front of your friends, not because I think I’m particularly embarrassing, but because I remember that at this age, everything is. Everything is raw and enormous and weighty. Everything is painfully larger than life, and it’s real—it won’t be as real later. You’ll go to great lengths to feel things again like you do now, seek extremes, work out too long, drink too much, pick fights, lose yourself in movies and books, just trying to find that real. But right now, today, everything is very real for you and I honor that.
I promise you’ll never walk into a room and catch me talking about you with my friends, however innocent. And though I have no way of knowing how it would have felt had my parents been bloggers, I can guess, and it makes me shudder… and I won’t do that to you. Consider this that official post, the last time I will mention you on this site. Consider it one last hurrah, though, because I do need it. Not for you. For me.
Because I have this burning, all-swallowing urge to write you a book, dozens of books, an entire library, a city of libraries, to tell the world all of the ways you blow me away every day. You are so brilliant, so funny, so kind, so different. Yes my not exposing you is mostly out of respect for your feelings, but there’s also this small part of me that wants to keep you close and hidden, for myself, for the others you choose. So that when you decide to give of yourself to people, they will be well aware what a gift it is. There’s no room for price tags on your strong body, they peel and curl and slide right off.
Because that’s the biggest thing, my girl. You are a gift, and you are no one’s for the taking. These years are about to get hard, about to get sketchy and twisted and wet rock slippery, but if you can always remember that you are a gift to be given, not taken, you’re gonna be okay. You are a privilege to know. You’re gonna go out into the world and I won’t have to write a single word about you because everyone else will be scrambling for their pens, trying to capture you in ink, trying to extol your every quality, trying to keep up with all the ways you’re changing everything around you.
(And I hope you’ll still come back to my lap. That you’ll curl yourself into that jigsaw fit between my jaw and breast and let me smell your hair, curl your bitten-raw fingers around my shoulder blades, sigh into me everything you can’t find words for. Just once in a while.)
I’m closing your book now because it’s up to you, my ten-today daughter, to write your own story, to claim your own words, from here on out. You don’t need to turn around to know that I’m right behind you, handing you sheet after sheet of paper, keeping you fresh and full in pens.
Lean back when you need to.
maria says:
maggie… this is gorgeous- like everything you write, but G is so lucky to have a wonderful mom like yourself. furthermore, she sounds so wonderful, so special it seems you got lucky as well.
October 29th, 2009 at 7:06 am
Caryn says:
Wonderful post — happy birthday to your daughter and congrats to you on having such a gift.
October 29th, 2009 at 7:07 am
Jay Schryer says:
Awww, this is so beautiful!
October 29th, 2009 at 7:07 am
The Stiletto Mom says:
What a sweet post…my oldest is about to turn 11, 10 was a tough one for me to deal with!
October 29th, 2009 at 7:08 am
Terri Fischer says:
just beautiful.
i have a newly-10-yr-old daughter as well, and that last paragraph really moved me. i *get* it.
October 29th, 2009 at 7:10 am
:') says:
>Sniff<
October 29th, 2009 at 7:11 am
gurukarm (@karma_musings) says:
Lovely, Maggie. Just lovely. Happy birthday to your wonderful girl, and many many more for you to share together.
October 29th, 2009 at 7:18 am
stacy di says:
so sweet…
October 29th, 2009 at 7:18 am
Tawnya says:
My daughter is 12. I miss 10 a lot. Although lately she is amazing and loving, I am not looking forward to 13, although she will still be amazing. Amazing post, I had tears in my eyes. Happy birthday to your amazing girl, she gets it from her mom!
October 29th, 2009 at 7:23 am
SPM says:
Maggie, if I don’t ever tell you? You did so good with her. She’s beyond words.
xoxo
October 29th, 2009 at 7:27 am
karey m. says:
favorite thing you’ve ever written.
and i’m accustomed to tearing up when i read you. but today? full-on flat-out weep.
i just like you.
October 29th, 2009 at 7:39 am
Boy Crazy (@claritychaos) says:
Maggie, I’m in tears over this. Thank you for sharing this glimpse of your girl and this normally private part of your heart. And after yesterday and some things we talked about, I get this even more – the part about saving something for those really special people.
Also, something about the keeping her hidden and close and secret reminded me of the feelings at the end of pregnancy – when you’re ready to meet your baby and share her with the world, but part of you wants to hang on and keep her all to yourself, tucked away inside and safe where she’s only yours.
Beautiful, Maggie. And happy birthday to G. xo
October 29th, 2009 at 7:40 am
Camille says:
What a kick-ass mom you are. I loved reading this.
October 29th, 2009 at 7:46 am
tysdaddy says:
Happy birthday, little one. You are beyond blessed . . .
October 29th, 2009 at 7:50 am
Ann says:
Beautiful tribute to her and to your parenting.
xo
October 29th, 2009 at 7:56 am
Danielle says:
Sitting in tears right right now, while my sweet seven month old Emma sleeps in the next room. I did not expect to be so moved but it’s a daughter thing, it’s a mom thing, it’s frankly a hormonal thing, it’s what happens when you love big.
So lovely. So well written. So touching. So, thank you!
October 29th, 2009 at 8:04 am
B says:
This is beautiful. She is so lucky to have you as a mom. You are truly amazing.
October 29th, 2009 at 8:25 am
Pseudo says:
This was a gorgeous tribute to your daughter. So beautifully written.
Happy birthday to you both, mother and daughter.
October 29th, 2009 at 8:26 am
Kelly says:
This post made me tremendously grateful for the two gifts-to-the-world I have been given the priviledge to raise. It also made me tremendously sad that my mother didn’t have the foresight and wisdom that you do and that I grew up without the thick layer of protection you’re giving your daughter.
Thank you for both emotions, and for always speaking your truth so beautifully.
October 29th, 2009 at 8:51 am
Mojo,NC,USA says:
I am … beyond words. You’ve done it. You have silenced the Mojo.
Happy Tenth G. You rock, girl.
And so does your mom.
October 29th, 2009 at 8:53 am
kootnygirl says:
Lovely Maggie. I check your blog everyday for new poetry, and was so happy to see an entry today.
My little girl is 6 – too young to understand your words, but hopefully not to young to understand that I feel the same way about her – so special and unique. If it’s okay with you, I’d like to hang onto this post for a while and share it with her when the time is right.
October 29th, 2009 at 8:55 am
Jett says:
Ten! They become these magic near-adults when double digits hit, hovering between Your Baby and The Grown Person, both peeking through and breaking a mother’s heart in singular ways.
The British thing evoked a cackle. I love when they are so self-possessed and quietly sure. >:o)
October 29th, 2009 at 9:09 am
Laurie says:
This made me cry. Beautiful. She will be so happy to have this someday.
October 29th, 2009 at 9:24 am
Tasses says:
And one day you will turn around, the spin will be quick: a whirlwind, and she will be 26. Thanks. Your beautiful thoughts made me think to call my little girl away in vet. school, just need to hear her voice….
October 29th, 2009 at 9:38 am
Cathy says:
Maggie, STOP IT. Mine is only 5 and you still wrote everything I feel about her. STOP IT. Just stop peeking into my soul and throwing it onto paper like a clown’s confetti bucket.
Ok, don’t. It’s easier to feel, to process, to live when you write it out for me. As always, my deepest thanks for your strong, beautiful words. She is lucky to have such a woman for her momma.
October 29th, 2009 at 9:41 am
Cathy says:
And “clown’s confetti bucket” was not meant to sound flippant or sarcastic, it really looks shitty now that I read it again. I really meant it as a compliment.
…Which is why you have this blog, and I have, well, mine. LOL. Thanks again.
October 29th, 2009 at 9:45 am
fancy feet says:
God, Maggie. This is gorgeous. Sometime, somewhere she’s going to treasure this.
Loved the idea of you in a festive sweater vest.
October 29th, 2009 at 9:57 am
anymommy says:
Ack. Between you and Bon tears are streaming down my face this morning. I know it’s for her, but thanks for reminding me. My gifts are still so little; I forget how fragile my place will be some day.
October 29th, 2009 at 10:06 am
Ang says:
Swallow. Choke. What a lousy parent I’ve been to my only girl. Stuck in the middle of 2 over-easily teasing boys~I forgot what it’s like to know those years. (And how I promised myself I wouldn’t).
Thank you for the reminder to be kinder/more understanding/insightful to my future best friend.
October 29th, 2009 at 10:10 am
Hip Mom's Guide says:
What a wonderful tribute to a wonderful girl. Go get ‘em, G.
October 29th, 2009 at 10:27 am
Tweets that mention Okay, Fine, Dammit » Your last post (A love letter, on your birthday) -- Topsy.com says:
[...] This post was mentioned on Twitter by MaggieDammit, millermix. millermix said: If you read nothing else today, you must read this amazing piece by @maggiedammit – http://trunc.it/2z7p2 [...]
October 29th, 2009 at 10:36 am
pamela ~ the dayton time says:
Happy birthing day, mama. Someday she will realize what a gift this piece is.
October 29th, 2009 at 11:14 am
Fragrant Liar says:
Nicely done.
October 29th, 2009 at 11:58 am
deb says:
Incredible . And I have four daughters ( and a son ), and while I refer to them they would not appreciate me posting about all of their “stuff”.
Kudos to you, this is blogging with integrity too.
October 29th, 2009 at 12:23 pm
Nicole says:
Wow. *wiping tear* Every woman should hear/see something half as beautiful from her mother at some point in her life.
This is where your worlds collide: beautiful writer meets kick-ass mom.
October 29th, 2009 at 12:27 pm
Xbox4NappyRash says:
Magic. Just lovely.
October 29th, 2009 at 12:27 pm
Renee says:
This is a wonderful birthday gift – even if she doesn’t know it exists. Happy Birthday sweet girl!
October 29th, 2009 at 1:17 pm
slouchy says:
happy birthday to her fabulous self.
October 29th, 2009 at 5:53 pm
Chris says:
She will love that you wrote this, one day. Most of the rest of us had to pull these sentiments from birthday cards and awkward hugs and occasional second-hand stories. And it can take a lifetime. Your daughter need never have a doubt.
October 29th, 2009 at 6:47 pm
hsdiva says:
I am relatively new to your blog, and a new blogger myself. I started my blog with every intention of posting all the goofy and gory details of our wacky life. My first few posts were innocent enough, but then a few months ago I found myself on the verge of posting about my daughter’s first venture with an electric razor. I just couldn’t do it. As much as I wanted to be one of those really raw and honest bloggers, I knew that posting the very personal and intimate details of my kids’ lives would be *so* unfair to them. I decided to take a break from my blog and I still haven’t gone back. I’m trying to figure out how to balance my goal of being a writer with my need to protect my children. Your post just confirmed what I’ve known since that night I stopped myself from posting something that likely would have crushed my daughter (perhaps not now, but some day for sure). I don’t want to be one of those mommy bloggers who foresakes all that is precious in life just for the sake of gaining an audience. Thank you for putting into words what has been in my heart for many months. Maybe now I can go back to my blog with a fresh perspective that doesn’t involve revealing the intimate details of my kids’ lives.
By the way, my kids (boy and girl twins) just turned 10 last month. I so get what you’re feeling right now. They’re on the verge of puberty and I’m awestruck — both for them and what is ahead of them in the years to come, and for me and all we’ve been through to get us to this point.
Motherhood is such a gift, isn’t it?
October 29th, 2009 at 6:56 pm
always home and uncool says:
Touching post, Mags. Happy day to your no-longer baby.
October 29th, 2009 at 8:08 pm
tracey says:
I wish that I had a love letter from my mother like that one…
Oh, and that underwear funeral post made me absolutely cry with joy!
October 29th, 2009 at 8:21 pm
arizaphale says:
A stunning photo. I remember the times you have commented on my site Maggie, claiming you were ‘not ready’ for the approaching teen years. I dunno. Sounds to me like you are absolutely ready. Well adjusted in fact! Congratulations mama on making it this far. May the rest of the journey be as blessed. I know mine has been.
October 30th, 2009 at 1:20 am
Aubrey says:
sigh…..
aw
*smile*
October 30th, 2009 at 7:01 am
IB says:
Breathtaking. Thanks for sharing her with us, this one last time.
IB
October 30th, 2009 at 7:16 am
schmutzie says:
This weblog is being featured on Five Star Friday – http://www.fivestarfriday.com
October 30th, 2009 at 9:48 am
Ashleigh Burroughs says:
And she will come back, pressed close to your heart, because you’ve given her permission to walk on her own
Beautiful. Simply beautiful.
October 30th, 2009 at 10:52 am
Kat says:
What a beautiful, eloquent answer to the question “when should bloggers stop writing about their kids?” It’s a tough call, but I think you’ve made the right one.
October 31st, 2009 at 6:35 pm
bejewell says:
Ten is a long way away for us, and I don’t know if I’ll make the same choice when we reach it… but I so respect your decision to keep the ten-year-old goddess away from the harsh light and protected in the background glow of a mom who loves her unreservedly. Kudos to you both.
October 31st, 2009 at 7:31 pm
Alison Veres says:
I don’t know Maggie.
“Consider this that official post, the last time I will mention you on this site.”
I don’t think I like that promise. I hope it’s one you may consider breaking from time to time. Because reading about parents loving their kids is one of my all time favorite topics.
But not writing about your kids (or not publishing it, anyways) if it’s done out of love for your kids… I guess I’ll just have to accept it. And now, I’m going over to Cakelet to write about my awesome daughter and how freaking great she is. And she’s 21. And I’ll never stop. She’ll have to get a court order…
November 1st, 2009 at 6:11 am
Postmarc says:
You are so cool. I don’t know if at 10 she will get how cool, but someday…
Thank you for one of the best.
And the photo…..perfect!
November 1st, 2009 at 7:11 am
Melissa de la Fuente says:
God…..what an amazing writer you are, and what a wonderful mother and what a wonderful girl you have. I am a mother of two amazing girls too and I want to thank you for sharing this with us and for having this insight into what your beautiful girl will need. I hope I follow your lead with as much grace. I owe it to them, my gifts.
xo
Melis
ps I came over via wonderful Karey….so glad I did.
November 1st, 2009 at 8:06 pm
Mr. Chuck says:
Oh Maggie!
This post makes me miss you guys so MUCH! I can’t tell you in words how much it makes me thankful for having friends like you I always said I NEVER wanted girls but I would make an exception with G and E! You guys have such great kids. It is sad to see them growing up so fast.
-C-
November 2nd, 2009 at 11:13 am
LaskiGal says:
You are the mom of moms . . .
November 2nd, 2009 at 9:34 pm
Eliza says:
Happy Belated Birthday, Greta!!! Everything Maggie said, I second (and third and fourth). I have presents, so will send them…just forgot the call!! Grrr..
November 3rd, 2009 at 12:21 pm
A Free Man says:
Beautiful, Maggie and Happy Birthday to your daughter.
Oh, and keep writing about her if this is what it brings out of you.
November 3rd, 2009 at 5:37 pm
David Levine says:
Maggie, your blog is a privilege to read, if I may borrow your words for a sec. Thanks for this lovely post and happy 10th to your daughter. Love that photo with the long autumn shadows. My daughter will turn 30 on her next birthday, but this post of yours brings back all the beautiful memories of her childhood.
November 4th, 2009 at 4:40 am
cenobyte says:
Wow.
Just.
Wow.
My boy just had his 10th birthday, and I’ve always wished I *could* write for him. But something always seems to choke up when I try.
This is beautiful.
Thank you.
November 5th, 2009 at 4:28 pm
Deb says:
What a beautiful post, and it sounds like you have an amazing daughter. Congrats on 10 years of motherhood!
Just found you through My Messy Paradise and so glad I did.
November 5th, 2009 at 7:04 pm
Sock Girl says:
What an absolutely beautiful post.
And happy birthday to your lovely daughter.
November 6th, 2009 at 3:23 am
blues says:
Oh maggie you just never ever disappoint. I loved this.
November 6th, 2009 at 8:52 am
Green Family Blog says:
This is my first time reading OFD and I have to admit, I started to well up, my eyes were noticably less dry after finishing. Thankyou for sharing a very personal moment, I will be saving OFD as a favorite!
P.s. I found your blog through the Bloggers Choice Awards and I voted for you, if you would like to vote for my educational blog you can vote here;
http://bloggerschoiceawards.com/blogs/show/78212
Thanks
Martin
November 8th, 2009 at 9:09 am
Aunt Becky says:
How beautiful, Maggie. How touching. Happy Birthday to your daughter. These years, I hope they’ll be easier on her then they were for so many of us.
November 8th, 2009 at 7:36 pm
marymac says:
ohmygosh now you’ve made me cry. is your blog sponsored by Kleenex?!
November 18th, 2009 at 6:59 am