for bek: on living with daughters

My daughter, who's only 10, has been boy crazy for quite some time now. It is truly THE BANE of my existence. And I am scared silly about getting through the next 10 years. (Already I have often contemplated the wisdom of the Catholic concept of the convent...)


Last Christmas Suze (not her real name, but short for Suzie Q) wanted to get a present for this boy she has loved for the entire school year. I didn't encourage her, but I thought something like a candy bar might be appropriate.

One night, while I was away, she went to the mall under someone else's supervision (or lack thereof) and spent $30 on a $60 hoodie for her one true love.

Can you say "Wildly inappropriate?"

I had been home for a couple of hours before my husband casually mentioned something about it (probably anticipating, correctly, the wrath it would incur). It was late so I went in and confiscated the bag with the hoodie--making sure, of course, that she still had the receipt--and told her we'd talk about it in the morning.

Because I hoped that if I slept on it I wouldn't do her bodily harm.

And I hid the bag in my bedroom.


By the next morning I had forgotten all about it and she was up and cheerful for a change and left for school a little early and all was well.

Or so I thought.


At some point the light dawned on the reason for her cheerfulness and I went to make sure the bag was still there.

It was gone.

I marched down to the school in such a rage, screaming in my head how mad I was that she a). had bought the darn thing in the first place b). was that enamored with a boy at the tender age of 10 and c). had had the gall to boldly search through my things in order to deliberately disobey me. I was also pleading with the powers above that I would know what to do and how to handle it. (Is it OK to pray when you're that angry?)

Because, in my mind, this was that big. (And because I pretty much knew that if I personally hauled a boy out of class and demanded he return the hoodie I'd probably be in big trouble.)


Fortunately, as I marched down the halls of the school I saw a couple of people I knew, which gave me a few moments to remember to breathe again and required me to be civil enough that I had cooled down a bit before I got to her class.

I pulled Suze out of class and learned, to my greater dismay, that she had already given him the hoodie.

Fortunately, I was sane enough by that time that I didn't do anything that would've set off the alarms at DCFS and I did have a good talk with her, telling her it was an inappropriate gift and explaining that the reason I had taken it away last night was because I wanted to protect her from being embarrassed. But I was still faced with the problem of how to get the hoodie back.

I can tell you all, dear readers, that prayers are answered.

Because at that very moment the principal walked by and I--of course without even thinking--told her I had a problem that morning and was wondering if she could help me handle it. (Poor Suze, can you imagine this scene from the mind of a 10-year-old?).

Miss G- took right over and called us both into her office and said the most perfect things. She explained about what's appropriate for the giving of gifts and was so kind, patient and absolutely perfect. Then she left us in her office and went to get the boy (and the horribly wrong hoodie) and brought them in.

I am sure that Suze was just mortified.

I know I was.

So Miss G- got the hoodie back and gave it to me and said the most perfect things to the kids. She told them how it's kind of neat to be admired, launched again into the lecture on appropriate gifts, then requested that this be kept between the four of us so that no one would get hurt feelings or be embarrassed (any further, anyway).

Then she sent the boy back to class and talked with us some more. She told Suze about her own mother, who died in an accident when she was young, and said how badly she wished she could talk to her mother again. She told Suze that I was on her side and she (Suze) should be so lucky (OK, maybe I said that part about being so lucky, or at least I wanted to). She told Suze how hard it must've been for me to march down to the school that morning to do the right thing. (Yes, I was balling my eyes out by this time--I thought, wouldn't any mother do the very same thing?). She guessed that Suze would probably be a little mad at me and said that would be OK, but encouraged her to know and remember that I loved her and wanted what's best for her.

All those things that I wanted to say, but that Suze would've never have heard. You know, for all the yelling and all.

And she said it so much more beautifully than I ever could have.


So that night I took Suze to the mall and we returned the evil hoodie and then ate at the nasty eatery and enjoyed a somewhat less surly evening together.

And I hoped she learned her lesson.


But secretly I am happy about one thing.

She bought a $60 hoodie for $30!!!!!