Let's Hear it for the Girls!

When the going gets tough, you sometimes realize you're not as tough as you like to think you are. So when the going gets tough, the not-so-tough crumble into the arms of the wonderful women in their life -- typically the mothers and the girlfriends. And they are there, willing and able to serve, always.

And then, there are the daughters. It should be no surprise, I suppose, that the miraculous beings who once brought indescribable joy with just a smile -- you know, the whole body smile with arms and legs flailing and cheeks looking as though they might actually burst, the kind of smile we tend to unlearn all too quickly -- are there to lift you up. They are there, even though you have promised yourself over and over that you would never become a burden to them, that you would always remember that it is your job (a labor of love, of course) to be there for them. It's a slippery slope, I think. Let them take care of you once, and it's only a matter of time before they're taking away your car keys and changing your diapers. I come by it honestly; my own mother swats me away if I try to hold onto her when we cross the street.

I remember, once, long ago, a friend -- already a seasoned mother with two toddlers -- reminded me that I did not always have to like my child; all I had to do was love her. It was one of those days, the kind of day when a young, overtired mother begins to understand why some animals eat their young. I recall being horrified by the advice, determined to like my screaming, inconsolable, tyrannical baby no matter what she did, though I certainly tucked the wisdom away for future reference. It has come in handy, more than a few times.

My adult daughters -- beautiful, bright and, as I had always hoped, pursuing their own lives with determination and passion -- never cease to amaze. Like my girlfriends, the ones who, like me, have endured so many more years of the odd brew of experiences and emotions that prepare us to cope with the ravages and gifts of time, my daughters are wise and loving and always there when I just cannot help but need them, even when I insist I do not.

When I look at my peers, I don't see wrinkles or sagging breasts or arm flaps. To me, they look just as good as they always did -- even better -- because, to me, they are forever beautiful. When I look at my daughters, I sometimes see the babies they once were, doing the full body smile, and I forget to see the beautiful women they have become. I was reminded of that last night -- not just of the beautiful women that they are, but of how their beauty will only become richer as time marches on.

Sometimes, I sit back and enjoy the show. Sometimes, when I'm not so tough, I let them step in to recreate the joy I always felt, just when they smiled.