Papa, Can You Hear Me?

It’s funny how differently two people can view the exact same situation. Take into account that one of those people is a female and the other a male, and the view of the experience becomes even greater.

This past weekend, JAO, L and I attended a retirement party for some friends. Z was relegated to my brother and sister-in-law’s house because, well, I wanted to enjoy my evening. I wasn’t concerned about L, however, because she has now reached the age where she can occupy her time and basically take care of herself. I knew that our friends’ 8-year-old and 13-year-old daughters would be there and that L would enjoy spending time with them.

As I expected, L hung out with the big girls and seemed to be having a great time. I didn’t feel the need to hover or to constantly inquire as to her well-being. I trusted the two girls she was with and I trusted her. I knew she wasn’t going to head down to the street and hitch a ride to Alabama. (Like anyone would voluntarily choose to go to Alabama, right?)

Oh, I’m kidding. Don’t go all Midnight in Montgomery on me.

I noticed, however, that JAO seemed more concerned with her whereabouts and went in search of her several times. He would say, “Where’s L?” And I would respond, “Um, out there somewhere.” Then he would look disgusted at my lack of maternal concern and then go look for her. Of course, she was always just around the front of the house or up near the tree line in the back yard. Only once was she found hanging with the crack heads on the street corner.

When it came time to fix our plates for dinner, I attempted to assist her in this effort. I was quickly rebuffed with the proclamation, “Mom! If you’ll just leave me alone, I will make my own choices.”

I backed off and said, “Okay, Ms. Thing, go to it.” She then proceeded to fill her plate with one hotdog bun, a scoop of pasta salad and a pile of sliced watermelon. I dared to call out from the other side of the room, “L, you know there are hot dogs there, too, right?” I was shot down with a withering look and a roll of the eyes. I was like, “Whatever, Diva, go all vegetarian if you want.” I then fixed my own plate and sat down to enjoy a nice dinner complete with adult conversation. And I didn’t have to cut up anyone’s hot dog into non-choking-sized bites.

I did take a few moments to reflect on how grown-up she seemed sitting around chatting with the Big Girls. She’s really tall for her age and I will forever be jealous of her willowy figure and curly, blond hair. She had her Dora purse on her arm and a ton of Silly Bandz on her wrist and I was struck with a sense of pride at how beautifully mature she was acting.

Yes, she pouted when I told her it was time to go, but that was to be expected. That’s how I respond when JAO tells me it is time to leave the mall. So, I didn’t hold that reaction against her.

On the ride home, however, JAO seemed distracted and slightly upset. I finally got him to admit that his feelings were hurt by L’s behavior. Apparently, he didn’t appreciate her new-found maturity like I did. I didn’t laugh at him (at least not out loud) because I could tell he was really upset by this. I tried to tell him that it was all a part of her growing up. That it was natural for her to establish her independence and begin to do things on her own.

There is a difference in how fathers view their daughters and how they view their sons. The same holds true with mothers. I will go to my grave insisting that Z needs to be cuddled and loved-up. And JAO will forever see L as his baby girl. Maybe that’s the way it is supposed to be. I don’t see L as my little girl. I see her as the other woman in my house whose mood swings and dramatic flair rival my own. I’m also not the touchy-feely, sentimental mommy who laments the passing of each stage of her kid’s life. Instead I celebrate each graduation as a step closer to their independence and my freedom.

I don’t need to be needed. I need to be left alone.

I told JAO that I know for a fact that little girls will always need their daddies, even when they insist they don’t. They don’t call us “Daddy’s Little Girl” for nothing. A father’s place in his daughter’s heart will never be replaced. There may be rivals, but never any that pose a serious threat. JAO secures his place in L’s heart every time he reads her a bedtime story or let’s her stand on his feet while they dance. Or every time he pushes her on a swing or plays Duck, Duck, Goose in the living room or wears a tiara while enjoying some imaginary tea. Every hug, every smile, every soothing whisper tells her how much he loves her.

Yes, JAO, L will always need her Daddy. Well, at least she will always need her Daddy’s wallet.

HAHAHAHAA! You thought I was going to go completely Hallmarky on you, didn’t you?

Whatever.