What if we’re not The Gilomre Girls?

Working in the coffee shop near mine, I’ve just seen a mum bring over two cupcakes to the table her young teenage daughter was sat at. Looking eagerly for her approval, the mum said ‘these really are ‘instagram-worthy’ cupcakes aren’t they?’, to which her daughter rolled her eyes and looked back down at her phone.

Aside from being a real ‘of its time’ comment, it got me thinking that in 10 years or so, I too will likely come up with cringe-worthy statements to try to endear myself to my teenage daughter.

I find this scenario of struggling to build connections with Emily a completely alien concept. Ever since she was born, I have been her number-one favourite person in the whole wide world. I’m the first person she comes to when she’s pleased with herself for completing a new task for the first time, and I’m the person she runs to when she’s upset and in need of comfort. Presently, at this point, I can do no wrong.

As this is all I’ve ever known, I’ve never considered the fact that in a few short years, I’ll probably be secretly reading the messages on her tablet to just get a glimpse into a life that she tries to keep hidden from me. I shudder at the thought of me accidentally catching a few minutes of Radio 1 during school drop-off time and saying ‘I really love this track! Who is it again? Justin Bieber?’, to which I’m told to shut up and stop being so embarrassing.

I’ve always thought I’d be the ‘cool mum’, the Lorelai Gilmore to Emily’s Rory. But what if it doesn’t pan out that way? What if she’d rather die than talk to me about a boy she likes in her class?  I don’t think I could deal with that.

I guess that decision isn’t up to me though. I can do my best to maintain openness and honesty with Emily by respecting her, listening to her and leading by example. But if Emily doesn’t want to let me in, there’s not much I can do about that. It’s a natural and normal part of the growing-up process. But that doesn’t make it any easier to bear.

Until that time comes, I’m going to savour being her ‘number 1’ for as long as it lasts. And when she does cut me out of her life, I’ll console myself by eating a ton of ‘instagram friendly’ cupcakes.

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