Oil and Water

There are a lot of things about raising 3 girls that scare the crud out of me.  Good old Mother Nature, for one. We might as well just put a huge sign on our front door saying, "Enter at your own risk!"  And driving... ugh. This one makes me feel all panicky if I dwell on it too long.  Erika, yeah, I'd trust her behind the wheel... but Ellie?  Uh, let's just hope they raise the driving age to, like, THIRTY!  Let's see, what else?  Oh yes.  Boys.  'Nuff said.  Oh and I can't forget just the sheer amount of money it's going to cost us in the end- proms, car insurance, college, weddings, etc. etc. etc.

Just thinking about it makes me feel a little panicky.

But there's one thing in particular that weighs heavily on my mind more than all that above.  The one thing that I worry about, constantly think about, pray about and probably drive Rob crazy talking about.  And that one thing is my relationship with each of my girls.  

It's so easy finding things out there about the relationship between a daddy and his daughter, or a mama and her boy.  Mom's and daughters?  Like oil and water.

We give birth to these precious, innocent, dependent little souls.  And we spend the next 18 years teaching them how to fly, so that ultimately they leave the nest.  And I don't think any mother, looking down at their precious sweetie tucking them in at night and saying prayers with them, anticipates or looks forward to letting go and letting them learn from their mistakes.  

"Let go and let God."  That's my motto.  At a recent retreat I went to, after having experienced the best confession I've experienced (is there really such a thing?!) I left with the message, "Be still and know that I am God."  That's good, I need that.

So how do you get there?  What needs to be happening in a home to foster a safe, close and intimate relationship between a mother and her daughter?  How do you ensure that you are not a helicopter mom (one that hovers)?  These are the questions I'm dwelling on these days.