I have a 13-year-old daughter. We look a lot a alike. We are a lot a like in personality too, Which does make for some interesting moments.
She can make me want to pull my hair out. She can bring a smile to my face quicker than anyone. She will argue and debate over a silly topic for hours. She is the first person there with a hug or a kind word for someone who is struggling. She is a unique blend of her father and myself, in both looks and personality.
She plays volleyball. She loves volleyball. Her mother would not be caught dead playing volleyball, and never the way that she plays volleyball. She puts in 100 percent all out, diving on the court, sometimes racing into the sidelines in pursuit of the ball, and all for the love of a game.
She is with a team that is new to her, it is made up of girls from all over the northern Colorado area. Katy is like her mother in the fact, that she is shy. It takes her a while to get comfortable with people, but when she is… wow. This team is made up of a group of nice girls. 13-year-old girls are not generally known for being ‘nice’. But this team is nice. They pick each other up, and make sure that there is always a pat on the back, no matter how the play was run. They try to make every play work, even if someone else’s pass wasn’t the best. They work with each other. They giggle, tease and joke with each other. They just plain enjoy being together.
I wish that I had that type of relationship when I was 13. I was not a person that has ever blossomed doing sports. Coke bottle lenses, and the pain that goes with sports, has not ever thrilled me. But watching these 10 girls who support each other, and stand together against harder teams who have been together forever, makes me for a minute wish I had experienced that team spirit.
I’m so glad that Katy isn’t an exact copy of myself. That she is a better and stronger person than me. Last night after a full day of volleyball, a fundraiser that required a lot of coordination and overall strength, (note to self – taking down volleyball courts is not for the faint of heart or hand for that matter.), a very giggly dinner at Red Robin with some of the team, she came home and practiced her clarinet for an hour. Me, I was collapsed on the couch, struggling to embroider without falling asleep.
There are going to be those days filled with those ‘oh so proud’ parenting moments that I immediately regret and wish for a do-over. Luckily for me, there seems to be less of those days, and more of the, “wow, she is becoming a great person” moments. I’m so glad that she isn’t a copy of me.