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I gave birth to my older daughter three months shy of my twenty-first birthday. And actually, for someone that young — I had my shit mostly together.
Ok — I didn’t really — but I had it tagged— on a small plot of land — where it free-ranged and I could locate it if I had to.
And because our first kiddo was such an easy baby and toddler — The Universe tricked us into having another. Her sister was born a few months after I turned twenty-three.
To say my younger daughter was hell on wheels from the moment she was born would be an understatement. But as she grew — I talked myself down off the Motherhood Ledge many times knowing her strong, independent streak would serve her well as an adult — even if it was annoying as fuck in a four-year-old.
Fast forward to today. And Nana Land. I am young for a grandmother. But — I still get it.
The ability to look at my granddaughter’s most epic temper fit and appreciate the fact no one — NO ONE — will ever fuck with this Human as an adult woman — so worth the price of admission. And part of me is cheering her Inner Warrior on. Okay — yes — she does have to eat something…and it would be great if she could come up for air long enough to enter negotiations about this — however, I’ve got time. I can wait it out.
