I just dropped my nine-year-old daughter off for the first day of Fourth Grade. While I was there, I received a phone call from my 21-year-old daughter, who lives far away now. I'll call her back in a bit.
The Bristol P. "news" has me thinking a lot about daughters and mothers today.
Life is easy with a nine-year-old daughter. She likes to shop with mom and ride bikes, and likes to hear me scream her name out during a soccer game. Little girls grow into young women, and things get more difficult.
My 21-year-old daughter, Maggy, is a mom. That makes me a (eee gads) a Grandmother. I received the news of my impending grandmotherhood right around the time that I turned 41. Not exactly the birthday gift I was wanting or expecting from my then 19-year-old daughter.
But that baby, Iris, is the best gift anyone ever received. So beautiful, sweet and adorable. And that's an objective opinion, I swear. Everyone who meets her falls under her spell, it's not just me!
The mother-daughter dynamic can be tough sometimes, and when you throw in a young woman with an unexpected pregnancy, much hand-wringing and chaos can ensue (or at least it did in our case). I can't even imagine what it would be like to go through that in the public eye, under constant scrutiny. My heart goes out to Bristol and I can't help but question her mom's decision to accept the VP nomination, throwing her daughter into the public eye (more than she already would be as the governor's daughter) and guaranteeing that Bristol's every move is now going to be tracked by the media.