My Daughter – My Friend (Part 1)

(circa 1979-2000)

How did it happen? How could that tiny baby (well, not so tiny – she was 9 ½ pounds) grow up to become my best friend?

I have two children. One gave me premature gray hair (he is depicted in previous blog posts); the other helped forestall it a little bit longer – a boy and a girl, in that order, two years and 4 months apart.

When I was pregnant with Shannon, I spent my days chasing after Luke as he went from room to room, creating messes and challenging every order I gave him. I thought to myself, “If this baby is like Luke, I … will … die!”

The day finally arrived when Shannon entered the world: sweet, calm and compliant (well, most of the time, until her stubborn streak would take over…) There are moments in my life that are permanently engraved, like a photograph, in my heart’s memory. One evening my heart snapped a photo that I will treasure forever. I was making dinner as my sweet, 5 month old Shannon, sat on the kitchen floor, happily playing with Tupperware and measuring cups. I looked down, she looked up and as our eyes met, we shared a smile. It seems such an insignificant thing, but a tiny seed of friendship was planted that evening.

Luke required most of my attention nearly every day, leaving Shannon to occupy herself, which she was quite contented to do. However, when Luke started school, I then had the opportunity to spend every weekday with only her. I treasure those days. We played with her toys together, read books and learned letters and numbers. She was my little companion as we ran errands. Those were sweet times – and our friendship grew a little more every day.

A Love of Music

My mom and dad downsized and in the process, gave us their upright piano. So, we decided to send Luke to piano lessons. The venture went okay, although forcing a very active 7-year-old boy to practice piano every day was a challenge. However, little 5 year old Shannon was very interested in the piano. She watched Luke intently as he practiced and in the process, learned a little song, which she played quite well. Every year their school put on a talent show and both kids were scheduled to perform.

Luke played his favorite piece: the “Star Wars” theme. He did so reluctantly and was relieved when the ordeal was over. However, when it was Shannon’s turn to perform, she fearlessly marched up to the piano and matter-of-factly played her piece, flamboyantly bowed to the audience when she finished and marched off the stage, reveling in the applause. And that was the beginning of her life-long love of music.

One year later, after we had moved to Flagstaff, her little friend played in a recital that we attended. Shannon was captivated. During the recital, she handed me a note she had written in her little first-grader scrawl: “Mommy, can I please, please, PLEASE, take piano lessons?” We had no money. There was no way we could afford piano lessons. But how do you say no to such a heart-felt request from your child? That moment, I made a vow: with God’s help, we would make that happen. And God faithfully provided.

We found her a teacher and she took weekly lessons for the next seven years. She diligently practiced nearly every day – and we never had to force her to do so.

Her love of music expanded in the fifth grade, thanks to the elementary school band where she learned to play the flute. She continued playing the flute in school bands through junior high and into high school. And then in her junior year she transitioned into playing the trombone. She loved the band and became what is affectionately known in high school as the ultimate “band nerd”. It was a great peer group to be with during those teenage years. She even became president of the bank council and was the assistant drum major. She was also in the jazz band, the concert band, marching band and independent study band. This taught her some valuable leadership skills and fostered her love of bossing people around and being in control. Admiration and respect began to grow in my heart for my daughter.

A Stubborn Streak

As I mentioned before, she had (has) a stubborn streak. From first grade through sixth grade she was a Brownie and then a Girl Scout. I was one of the leaders. When our Girl Scout troop was in fourth grade, we leaders planned an early morning, come-as-you-are surprise breakfast. We went to each girl’s house to “capture” them out of bed and take them to one of the leader’s house for breakfast. After capturing several girls, it was time to get Shannon.

Shannon LOVES to sleep in (she still does). She was NOT about to get up that morning. It was Saturday, after all! We tickled her. We coaxed her. We bribed her. She was NOT going to get up. And so we physically dragged her out of bed, out of her room and into the hallway. At the top of the stairs, she braced her feet against the stair rails, screaming. She was NOT going! I don’t remember how we did it but eventually she did end up in the car and went to the breakfast … and sulked the entire time. We were exhausted – but we did it! Shannon’s stubbornness is a force to be reckoned with though.

Stubbornness isn’t altogether a bad characteristic, when channeled into a positive force. Shannon’s served her well, especially when it came to dating. She had set her standards and stubbornly refused to cave in to pressure. She knew what she believed in and wasn’t going to compromise. And my admiration for her grew.

Ice Hockey

From the time we moved to Flagstaff both Luke & Shannon learned to ice skate and they both became extremely good skaters. The city ice rink became their favorite hangout. Eventually, after Luke began playing hockey, Shannon decided she wanted to play too. No figure skating for her! So she (and two other girls) joined a boys’ team, donned their hockey gear and placed themselves at risk, along with the other boys, for the perils of hockey casualties (i.e. falling, slamming into the boards, checking, etc.).

One night Luke and Shannon were playing a pick-up game and played on the same team. A boy on the other team checked Shannon pretty hard and down she went. This was Luke’s opportunity to play the “protective big brother” and teach the boy a lesson. I can’t remember how the encounter went, but the guy never checked Shannon again. When another boy tried to pick on Shannon he was reminded by his teammates, “You DO know who Shannon’s big brother is, don’t you? It’s Luke McIntyre.” That comment evoked a sense of awe and fear, and Shannon was rarely picked on again.

The Perils of Being Tall

Shannon was always one of the tallest kids in her class. I was able to empathize with her because that was the bane of my existence growing up – towering over all my peers – even the boys. I endured the inevitable mocking and name calling and tried everything I could to fit in, desperately wanting to be “popular” but being woefully unsuccessful. So I tried to prepare Shannon for the inevitable ridicule she was likely to suffer and to be proud and thankful for her height. As she grew and matured, I was amazed at how she handled it. She didn’t care what people thought about her and wasn’t swayed by peer pressure. She was her own person and stood tall and strong – and was thankful for her height.

Time to Talk

Sometimes you just want to talk to your child – find out how their day was, what they learned in school, how their friends are doing … Such conversations with my kids were usually met with a distracted, curt answer: “Fine”. And that would be the end of the conversation. Meaningful conversations were not going to happen in my timeframe.

Shannon loved to challenge me on multiple levels. One day my mom was in town and the three of us enjoyed what we loved to term: a “girls’ day”. After lunch one day we were driving to the mall to do some shopping, Shannon was relentlessly challenging me on some moral issue (I can’t remember exactly what it was about though). But she was wearing me out and I was exasperated. With a twinkle in her eye, my mom whispered in my ear: “I’m glad it’s you and not me.” Gee, thanks a lot, Mom!

There were, however, times when the kids wanted to talk – really talk, having meaningful conversations about important things. The timing for those conversations was often very inopportune, usually when I was overwhelmed with things I had to do and with a limited time in which to do them or when I was utterly exhausted. But those were the times that I knew were golden. I had to put all those tasks and fatigue behind me, sit down and give my child my fullest attention, no … matter … what.

In Shannon’s case, especially during her teenage years, those times usually happened very late at night. I would be in bed, dozing in and out of consciousness, waiting to hear her car in the driveway after a late-night hockey practice or band trip. As she ascended the stairs, I would get up and greet her, planning to snuggle right back into bed to get some much-needed sleep. However, we would start talking – and talking – and talking. She would open up her heart. This time was way more important than any sleep.

It was a time when we would sort through her values and issues of her maturing faith. We would talk about relationships, learning valuable lessons from them. We grew together. Our hearts intertwined. And our relationship gradually transformed from mother/daughter to precious friends of the heart.

A Dead Cat in the Road

It was 1:00 am in January. The outside temperature was about 10 degrees. Everything was frozen. I was snuggled down beneath a pile of blankets, dozing off and on, waiting for Shannon to get home. I eventually heard her coming up the stairs and was planning to greet her, when she came into our bedroom. She whispered, “Mom! Mom! There’s a dead cat in the middle of the road!” I drowsily looked at her. “And your point is … ? (yawn)” She said, “I can’t just leave it there! It’s someone’s pet. We need to go and take care of it.” Really?

This was another opportunity to bond with my child. But it was COLD outside! I was tired! However, I decided to put my comfort aside, got up, donned my sweatpants, sweatshirt, boots and heavy jacket. We gathered a couple of plastic trash bags and a shovel and set off down the road to where the dead cat lay. “Now what, Shannon?” “I don’t know”, she replied.

As we stood there, in the middle of the road, in the middle of the night in January, at 10 freezing degrees, gazing at a dead cat, we had no idea what we were doing. So, we started laughing hysterically at the insanity of the scene.

After calming down, we came up with a plan and decided to move the cat to the curb. But neither of us wanted to touch it. So we wedged the shovel underneath the cat to move it, but the motion made it jiggle and we jumped back, screaming – and laughed some more. Finally, Shannon mustered the courage to wrap the trash bag around its tail and drag it to the curb. We then covered the corpse with the trash bag and, satisfied with the job, got back into the car to drive home, laughing all the way, hoping none of the neighbors witnessed our antics.

I will never regret putting my comfort aside for this experience. It’s something we’ll never forget and our friendship was firmly bonded that night – and over a dead cat, no less!

——————-

As I held my sweet baby Shannon to my breast, I could never have dreamed what she would become to me. I fed her, I dressed her, I played with her, I disciplined her. I was her mother. There were good days and difficult days. The years came and the years went. And a lovely metamorphosis gradually took place. She grew and matured and blossomed into a beautiful young woman and as the years went by, our hearts were gradually knit together.

Now, as adults, we enjoy spending time together. We share our inmost thoughts and feelings. We laugh together – and cry together. When she was little, she relied on me. Now I rely on her. I value her thoughts, opinions, insights and feelings. Now she is my friend.

God has been so good to me. He gave me such a beautiful gift: my daughter, my friend.