She had been quiet almost all day.
She just looked at her phone and rode still in the car.
I kept looking at my 13 year old daughter, Chloe, in the rear-view mirror when I thought she wasn’t looking.
I was trying to keep my eye on her.
Lately I’ve been a little bit worried about how my kids are processing all that’s going on in the world.
The last several months have been pretty brutal for all four of my girls in different ways,
but on this day Chloe had my focus.
On this day Chloe was the girl.
In her the weight has shown up in more withdrawing, and contemplative quietness.
A slight change in the frequency of her laughter.
More sitting with her knees to her chest.
We ran our errands that day and she hadn’t said much,
so it surprised me when out of the blue I heard her voice coming from the back seat of the van.
I had to turn the music down to be able to hear her, and it had not even been that loud.
“What was that?” I asked. “I couldn’t hear you.”
“I said” (Her voice was still soft here)
“…..You know when cars drive by in parking lots sometimes and their music is turned up so loud that their whole car vibrates with it?”
“Yes?”
And here was the pivotal moment:
“That is something I actually always want to do.”
I kind of laughed here thinking that if you had given me a thousand guesses to figure out what she had been about to say that I never would have come even close to guessing that one.
Especially not from this quiet time girl.
Especially not on a day like today.
So, I was faced with a parenting choice:
Do I name all of the reasons why booming music rattling your windows is really bad for your ears?
Do I tell her we can’t because it is annoying for others?
Or do I let her know I see who she is in there?
A girl that is seeking to still feel some freedom. (After all she is reaching the age)
A girl that needs to just not care about what’s right, or best for at least a few minutes.
A girl that needs a part of her that is feeling stifled to just echo out into the air.
What I did next surprised her. Frankly, it surprised me a little, too.
I turned our music so far up that the rear-view mirror I was looking at her in vibrated.
I couldn’t see her clearly in it anymore. I just saw a vibrating hue.
I turned around pleased to have given her this one secret heart’s-desire thing.
I can’t give everything a thirteen year old wants right now,
but this is a thing I could.
When I turned around her smile positively lit me up inside.
I had not seen it like that in far too long.
Like she couldn’t believe what was happening.
Like no gift could have been that good.
Complete blissful joy.
She was beaming, and looking back at me like she couldn’t believe how easy realizing her little (see: loud) dream was.
The drive home from our errands was about 20 minutes, and our mini-van bumped it the whole way home.
Through the Target parking lot, and town, and open cow pastures
we drove as the bass vibrated the windows.
We looked at people we pulled up next to at stop lights like they needed to accept it.
Like it just was what it was.
I caught her looking at me in admiration.
I rolled all four windows down at once.
Doing it brought out a part of me that I had forgotten that I sometimes liked, as well.
It’s easy to get bogged down in the shoulds and the shouldn’ts sometimes, but sometimes my own voice calls from the bottom of a well.
I recognize the look of yearning for freedom, and I wanted her to know I sometimes have it, too, so we cranked up that music, and reminded ourselves of the type of family and people that we are.
Exactly who we belong to.
About half-way home a part came on where a big crescendo came, and the look on her face when I turned the music up even louder there told me that I had chosen the exact, most perfect for her thing.
These kids are facing enough right now.
Really, all of us are, but I’d do anything to show them fun still exists and that it is something I am here for.
There are plenty of things to say no to.
I feel like these days it feels to them like “No” is practically the only word.
“No big friend gatherings,” “No school,” “No touching.”
I would have done almost anything to give that “Yes” to her.
A part of my girl re-surfaced because of that blasting music that I was worried was getting lost.
Every kid has their “real smile.”
Moms know what it looks like.
I’ve said “Do your REAL smile” on picture days since, I think, 2004.
*BOOM*
*BOOM*
went the subwoofers,
And I saw it.
I saw what that simple thing was doing for her.
I want her to know that I know how she feels, whether it’s sadness over the state of things,
or loneliness missing her crew, or whether it’s just a need for blasting rap music in a mini-van.
All of those feelings are valid. A time for all things.
All of them lived in me before they lived in her.
I was thirteen once, too.
We reached our home turn that day in the middle of a really good song, but Surprise Number Two was
that I just kept driving past it for awhile,
so that we could keep singing along.
She didn’t thank me with words that day,
and she didn’t have to.
The thanks came in the look that her vibrating rear-view mirror reflection gave me.
I had seen both of us in it all along.
This article was written by a guest blogger. The opinions expressed here are those of the writer and do not reflect the opinions of Bob Lacey, Sheri Lynch or the Bob & Sheri show.
Mom Outnumbered
Hi! My name is Kerri Green; Wife to Justin, and mother to four highly entertaining daughters -Alena, Chloe, Tessa, and Paige. I am an artist, a writer, a daycare provider, a lover of people, a believer that there is humor and beauty in all things, and the author of Mom Outnumbered; a blog about real family life, and my observations of it. My goal is to make people laugh, to be there for them when they cry, and most importantly, to let them know that they are not at all alone in this up and down world. I live with my family in Sebastopol California, and I am opening the window into our life. So welcome! Come in. Sit down. Just please don’t mind the mysterious wet spots.
