Literally from the moment she entered this world, Magoo has been a daddy’s girl. And I surely can’t blame her. She has a father who would literally move mountains for her. Before she was even born, he was signing up for Disney trips and freebees and collecting Care Bears paraphernalia. And of course he got her knight books so that his little girl could learn all about his favorite time period.
And the doting didn’t stop once she was born. Terry’s world revolves around his little girls and they are more than happy to bask in the warmth of his attention.
I used to think I was doing something wrong with Magoo because if TJ was around, he is who she wanted. If she was scared or excited or just wanted affection, she ran into Daddy’s arms as I sat on the side. But over time I learned to let go of the feelings of guilt and feelings of not being enough. I saw how great of a dad he is, and I saw how much she needed that, and I was happy for the two of them. There was more than enough love to go around.
But then over the course of the last four or five months, a change has started to occur. Magoo is still definitely her daddy’s little girl, but she has really began to attach herself to me. I see her watching what I do and imitating me. I hear my words coming out of her mouth. I hear her talking about “we” as in “we like this” and “we don’t do that.”
Daily I feel her little eyes on me as she tries to figure out her role in the world, and let me tell you that is one heady experience.
I have had jobs that I have felt pressure at. I have felt the need to perform up to a high level in many situations. I’m not a stranger to high stakes. But the stakes of this — the stakes of teaching a little person who quite literally means the world to me — there is nothing that compares to that.
I watch her as she sheds the last vestiges of toddlerhood and emerges fully into a little girl, and I am amazed. I look back at pictures of her as a baby and I remember sitting in this very seat and feeding her and rocking her on the day we brought her home from the hospital, and I cannot believe that she has become this intelligent, compassionate, creative, vibrant little person.
I am so unbelievably proud of her. She is the best of me. And that’s not even true because she is so much better than the best I could possibly offer. And I think of all she has to learn about this world — all the promise and affection and heartbreak and hope — and I realize that it is me that she will be looking at in order to figure out how to navigate the new terrain, and… What words are there even for that?
What an honor and a challenge and an all encompassing privilege.
I pray each night as I go to sleep and each morning as I wake that I can be enough. That I can guide these girls in the direction of hope. I know I don’t have all the answers and they will learn as many bad habits from me as good, but if I can help them find hope and believe in a world of promise, if I can instill in them the capacity for empathy and for faith and love, then perhaps I have set them on the track to finding their own way.
I was extremely lucky to have wonderful role models in my life growing up. I just pray I can offer the same to these three.