Bonding with your Daughter Guide

Finally, Mom to Myself

As number seven of eight kids, I often found it hard to get my mother's full attention. No matter how hard I tried, it frequently took a major act to really get noticed – like covering my little sister in Vaseline or climbing out my window onto the roof as a toddler. Unfortunately, this always earned me the wrong kind of attention.

When my mother realized how hard I was trying to get noticed, she decided to set aside some special time for me. Once a week, we had tea time in the breakfast nook, trading stories about our days while munching on oatmeal cookies. I'd tell her my problems and worries and she'd offer an unbiased opinion. Her favorite advice: love your enemies, they'll hate you for it.

Ever since I was five, mom hid newspaper comics or notes that said things like “I love you,” “I'm proud of you,” or “I miss you” in my lunch. When I went to camp at nine, she mailed the comics and hid candy in a box of Kleenex that she sent with extra socks and underwear so the counselors wouldn't find it and take it away. When I moved away to university at 19, the comics kept coming, along with cards that told me how much she missed me – I still have them in a box in my room.

My favourite memory of all took place during a two-day getaway to the cottage. One beautiful fall weekend when I was about eight, we drove two and a half hours together. No sisters were there to butt into the conversation, no brothers to steal my Hostess cupcakes or mutilate my Barbie. It was just the two of us, talking the whole way, making up stories about the people in the cars beside us and sharing our excitement about our night away. A few hours after we arrived, we raked leaves and jumped in them. She buried me up to my neck and then I buried her. She looked so beautiful as the setting sun glistened on her auburn hair and lit up her puffy red jacket. I took a picture of her in that pile of leaves and it remains one of my favourites to this day. She was so happy and focused – on me.

All we could hear while we played was our laughter, the sound of birds chattering and the soft whoosh of leaves hitting the ground. At dinner time, we realized that the chicken pot pie we had bought was actually steak and kidney pie – yuck! It was too gross to eat, but it didn't matter. Mom rustled up a few pieces of bread, some butter and cheese. She made us both a grilled cheese sandwich - my favourite.

I've since moved miles away from home and have a daughter of my own. As my little one grows, I hope to always make her feel important and loved, just as my mother did for me. And I plan to start clipping comics as soon as she hits Kindergarten.

Have a story of your own to tell? Head to our Mom-to-Mom section.