Parenting Without A License

No Mystery Here

Posted by Kimberly on September 13th, 2007 — Posted in Diva Girl

As part of their Back To School icebreaker activities, Diva Girl’s class did a “Mystery Friend” writing activity. This was especially exciting to Sabrina because she’s new to this school, and she was eager to show me what her friend had written about her when we went to the School Open House yesterday.

“Can you tell which one is me, Mama?” She asked, bouncing with excitement as she pointed to the brightly coloured puzzle pieces adorning the bulletin board.

I have a mystery friend. She has straight brown hair. She doesn’t have a dad. She has a sister and a mother. She has a cat. She lives in an apartment. She has some freckles. She has a very nice smile and is always kind. She is very silly. She doesn’t wear glasses. Her talent is doing the monkey bars. She likes to read. Sometimes she’s good at math. She should work on making sure that people don’t boss her around. She likes to run in the classroom. Sometimes she needs reminders of the rules. Sometimes she rushes. We are good friends. Do you know who my mystery friend is?

Yes, I can tell which one is her.

Diva Girl does have a nice smile, and she is generally kind. She does have a tendency to allow the other girls to boss her around, and she does rush through things sometimes. And yes, she doesn’t have a dad. But I don’t think that’s her most recognizable feature.

In fact, I wonder why that’s on there at all. I don’t mind that it’s there, exactly. It’s just that I don’t think it’s relevant. How is that an important part of her personality? How does the fact that her father has never met her contribute to who she is as a person in a meaningful way? If I’m being honest, it’s a bit frustrating to me, that someone who hasn’t even been here for the past nine years of tantrums, laughter, and tears should be given status like this. But that’s making it about me, and not about her, which was the point of the exercise.

Anyone who has ever been tagged as “so and so’s mommy” at the playground knows that we are simply in some way, we are merely appendages to our children. We are the adjuncts, not important in and of ourselves in their world but only in how we relate to the personal infrastructure. So I suppose that while this deviation from the accepted family norm isn’t relevant to me, or even particularly to my daughter, it would be a point of interest to her new friends, right along with her cat, her freckles, and the fact that she doesn’t wear glasses, either.

The more I think about it, the more I actually smile at this piece of information tucked in amongst the laundry list of physical characteristics and personal traits that define Diva Girl. Because this absence in her life does inform who she is, but it doesn’t define her and the very fact that it’s up there for everyone to see tells me that I’ve done right by my girl. That while it’s a point of interest that she doesn’t have a dad, it’s also okay. It’s not a deep, dark secret or a source of shame, it just is.

That’s all I ever really wanted to accomplish when it became apparent that I’d be raising Sabrina on my own. To raise a strong, confident daughter who was secure in her place in the world. I wanted to raise a whole person, someone who was unencumbered by guilt and self-blame. I wasn’t sure exactly how I was going to accomplish that, just that I knew I had to try. This little piece of purple construction paper makes me believe that I may have solved that puzzle without even realizing it because clearly it’s no mystery to Sabrina who her family is: She has a mother and a sister and a cat. And no dad. And that is just fine.