The Writing Mamas Daily Blog

Each day on the Writing Mamas Daily Blog, a different member will write about mothering.

If you're a mom then you've said these words, you've made these observations and you've lived these situations - 24/7.

And for that, you are a goddess.

Saturday, August 11, 2007



My daughter has officially begun flirting. She’s at sailing camp at Treasure Island.

She said while setting the table the other night, “Martin is mean.”

“Ah, ha” I responded, trying not to pounce all over that statement. I just wanted to savor it because I knew something delicious would follow. You see, she wasn’t acting hurt.

After a minute or two, I ask, “How is he mean?”

“He asked me, ‘how are the wife and kids?’”

“Ah ha,” I responded, “did you say something back?”

She said, “I asked him later, ‘how is your hubby?” Not the shrinking violet that I was when I was her age. I only pretended to like boys in that way because the popular girls were into the boys.

I just need to take a deep breath and listen. I watched the last half of The Ice Princess with her last night. The boy and girl kiss on the lips in the end. After she put away the DVD, she skedaddled downstairs, her energy is different; something has awakened.

My energy has changed, too. I amused myself at my daughter’s expense the other day. I asked the mother of a schoolmate of my daughter if she would take her home one day this week. She agreed.

Then I ran to my daughter and said, “Ha, ha, you are going to get a ride with Ivan and his mom on Thursday. “

“With Ivan?” she asked.

“Yup. Ha, ha.”

“Oh God,” she said, melting down into the car seat.

Sometimes, I feel an inkling of panic. My mind coughs up the thought, if she weren’t with that whirling dervish friend of hers at camp, this wouldn’t be happening. However, it was going to happen. My daughter is an intelligent, attractive, stylish (more than I ever was) young lady. The boys were just looking for a way to talk to her.

My tasks are to first keep my mouth closed and then coax my mind into acceptance. If she is going to begin flirting, Treasure Island Sailing Camp is a good spot. She’s under the supervision of the camp counselors.

“So, was Martin mean to you today?”I ask.

“No, but Ivan was.”

“Really?” I am trying not to crack up.

“Yes,” she said, “he left us on the beach.”

“But he came back for you?”

“Yes.” Then she added, “Then we left him on the beach.”

“Did you go back for him?”


By Vicki Inglis


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