My Daughter’s a Better Grownup Than Me

I still remember being five years old and solving the greatest mystery of life. Mom was washing my hair in a laundry tub in the basement when it hit me. As Mom gets older, I will get bigger. She was going to get little and I would take care of her.

It made perfect sense. My brothers and I were protected from learning about death until two years later. That’s why my theory seemed perfect.

I knew I was getting old when my youngest daughter…my baby…turned 35 this year. I’m damn proud of her! She’s a single mom raising her 15 year old daughter to be a responsible adult. She put herself through college and purchased her own home last year. Her first and current job is in the field that she got her degree.

Who does that?

Certainly not me. When I was a senior in high school, getting a college education never occurred to me. In 1974, I was supposed to get married, work, buy a house, have babies and live happily ever after.

I still kick myself in the ass forty-six years later for not getting a degree. But everything is relevant. If I went to college first, I probably would have never:

• Dated and married my first husband.
• Had two beautiful, intelligent, and resourceful daughters.
• Had four grandkids.