Monday mornings are always the hardest part of every week. Seeing three kids out the door used to be a nightmare, but they don’t need me to make their lunch or help them get dressed anymore. Regardless, I am always up by seven to see them before they head to school. Now that my youngest has gotten on the bus, I can finally get to work. As I sit down to my desk, my email refreshes from the night before. Fifteen unread emails appear on the screen in front of me. Stress from all of these deadlines starts to fill my body, as I ask myself “Why do I fill my plate with so many assignments?” Then I remember my oldest, Megan, is going off to college next year. Maybe if my husband and I knew how to budget money better I wouldn’t be in this position now. Never less, that is not the case.

As I start to tackle my inbox, my phone chimes. I swear to God if my son has forgotten something for school again I am going to lose it. Surprisingly, it is my daughter instead.

Chris said he’d grab a milkshake after school with me that cool?

Ok.

I can’t help but be giddy with excitement. Finally, a boy is paying attention to Megan. Maybe this is what she needs to end her “bisexuality” phase. I still can’t get over how she hid so much of her first relationship from me, her mother of all people. She never brought up that Amy girl unless I mentioned her first, but still claimed they dated for over a year. How could seeing some girl at school count as dating? And why was she so afraid to open up to me about it? Her coming out was the biggest shock of my life, because she had the audacity to keep me out of the loop. I know all of her other gay friends, girls changing into boys and boys changing into girls is only confusing her. These teenagers are way too young to be going around declaring they don’t align with a gender or will only date people of the same sex. Megan needs to find a good boy that treats her right. No daughter of mine is gay. I raised her, I have always been at home with her, I would have been able to tell. The poor thing is confused, and her stubbornness won’t let her see I am right.

My phone chimes again, interrupting my thoughts. It is Megan. She never texts me this often, so she must want something.

Got some more hoco pics from last night, figured you’d want to see 🙂

I open up the pictures she sent me. At first, I see all the same girls she has been friends with since elementary school. Why my daughter never branches out is beyond me. When I was her age, I was hanging out with friends, going to parties almost every single night. Between dance, work, dance, and National Honor Society, Megan never has time to be social. She puts too much pressure on herself to do well in school and her extracurriculars. Whenever I tell her she needs to loosen up and be a teenager, she rolls her eyes at me. Doesn’t she understand I am only looking out for her?

As I swipe through more pictures, I start seeing her with girls I have never seen before. This has me panic. What if Megan has a thing with one of these girls, and sending me these pictures is her way of telling me? Was this a Amy situation all over again? I start zooming in on the pictures, looking for any extra little detail. One girl has her hand on my daughters’ waist, while the next has her arm behind Megan’s back. Were any of these poses silent signs of affection? This is why she needs to tell me if she has figured out who she likes, so I don’t have to question every time someone new comes along. Amy was like a slap in the face, and I must make sure that never happens again.

My phone ping startles me for the second time. I see a message from my husband light up the screen.

I’m at work have a gr8 day sweetie!

I respond immediately. Megs is going out for milkshakes with Chris after school.

K c u after golf.

Ugh, he doesn’t get it. This is a big turning point in my daughter’s life: a date with a boy! I start to feel excited for her all over again. I hope it goes well, for both of our sakes.

My day is boring, full of conference calls, drawing, and responding to emails as usual. Before I know it, I hear the garage door open. She is home from her date! I hear the kitchen door open and her say, “Hey Mom!” The thud of a backpack follows next, followed by the refrigerator door opening.

“Hey honey, how was school?”

“Good, I got an A on my Calc test!”

“That’s nice, how was your date?”

“My what?” She pokes her head into my office.

“Your date with Chris?”

“Oh my God mom it was not a date! Look, I was really craving a milkshake and…” Megan starts rambling on about how none of her other friends were around and he said he would go with her. It all sounds like a lame cover up to me. A sentence did catch my attention though. “Molly even joined us.”

“Molly? Who’s Molly? I’ve never heard of her before.”

“Yes you have Mom. She’s in band. We hung out at homecoming together. I even sent you a picture.”

“You have a thing with this Molly girl?”

“What? Mom no! She has a girlfriend.” I shake my head. I will never understand how teenagers think all of this is okay. When I was in high school, we rebelled by stealing pumpkins and playing jokes, not by changing our genders and coming up with a new identity every other minute. Before I know it, Megan is out the door again, on her way to dance.

“Okay bye Mom text you when I get there.”

“Alright drive safely, sweetie!”

“Yep!”

I look out the window and watch her hop into the car. In seconds, she is down the street, out of sight. Walking back to my office, I can’t help but let out a sigh. All I want is for her to open up to me, yet she never does. She won’t tell me anything about her day; those details are only for her friends to know. She always seems happy and she stays out of trouble, which I am thankful for. But, she’s not the daughter I pictured I would have. My perfect daughter and I would do our nails, gab about boys and relationships, and be each other’s best friends, like how I am with my own mom.

I can’t help but reflect on when she was little. We used to be attached at the hip. After preschool we would often go out for lunch or have a spa day at home. It was such a pain to paint those tiny fingernails but she loved changing up the colors once a week. She is still like that today, but says now she has to learn how to do her own. I remember the days I used to dress her and play with her hair, as if she was my personal Barbie doll. Now the idea of makeup appalls her, and my opinions on her outfits are disregarded with an eye roll. Those days are definitely over.

I guess life knows how to throw some curveballs. Next year she’s going to be off at college, and who knows where life will take her from there. I wish she was four again, when everything was so much simpler. I sit back down at my desk, and respond to another email.  My phone pings.

I’m at dance, love you 🙂

I smile at my phone. I may not understand her, but she’ll always be my daughter.