The battle cry of my mother was “put on some lipstick.” I shut the front door behind me as her voice faded, and went out bare faced, looking exactly the way I wanted to.My mother would never think of leaving the house without makeup on. She echoed the cosmetic habits of her own mother, having been raised to believe that wearing lipstick signaled that one was ready to leave the house, to face the world as it were.

Still Spinning

The mid-sixties revolutionized the way many women and girls saw themselves. Sartorial constraints were loosened, if not abandoned. Conventional definitions of beauty were cast aside, enabling women to see themselves as beautiful, with or without make-up. I had no interest in lipstick, mascara or blush, not because I was trying to break free from convention, simply because I was trying to break free from my mother. Trying to gain independence and learn how to be in the world without her help. I couldn’t have cared less about what she thought of my appearance, or for that matter what she thought or felt about anything I did.

Didn’t Care

Black and White and Blonde

Just a Costume

What Might Have Been

When my life began to fray at the seams socializing with other mothers at my children’s schools made me feel as if I was the girl sitting alone in the cafeteria eating lunch by myself. I sat across the street from my daughters pre-school in my Suburban, crying hoping not to wake my baby Zazu sleeping in her rear facing car seat in the back. Dixie’s pre-school morning session wouldn’t end for about another fifteen minutes, and J.Lucy had started kindergarten. I wouldn’t pick her up until later in the day.

Almost Zazu

I watched as mothers, nannies, and some fathers that worked from home began to arrive for pick up. The endless gossip about my divorce made me wish I was invisible, and somehow after months of being “left out of the loop” it seemed as if people didn’t see me at all. My baby’s diaper bag contained an arsenal of products, ever ready for any type of emergency. At some point I had tossed a lipstick into one of the many compartments. Feeling my way around pacifiers, diapers and baggies full of Goldfish and Cheerios I found the sleek black tube and pulled it out from the bottom of the bag. I pulled down the rearview mirror, adjusted it to see my reflection, and slowly applied the deep reddish color to my tear stained lips.

Dark Crimson Jill

Somewhere in the deepest part of my memory my mother’s suggestion to “put on some lipstick” rocketed to my prefrontal cortex. My dewy crimson lips became the focus of attention, and just like that, the mothers that seemed to think divorce was contagious were now asking me what color my lipstick was, instead of pitifully asking me how I was. My mother turned out to be right after all, lipstick made me ready to face the world.

Mom Was Right

8 with Cake

A Peaceful J.Lucy

Big Eyes, Small Faced Zazu

At a time when mothers need connection to their daughters, daughters strive for independence. Leaving mothers wondering how to gain trust and solidify the precious mother-daughter bond, when freedom from this same person is the only thing a curious young girl wants. This emotional tug of war is par for the course during adolescence, but the formative years my daughters and I would have spent negotiating the balance between intimacy and disinterest is happening now because I lost a custody battle when my children were 8,10 and 12. My daughters went to live with my ex-husband, and my girls and I never lived together again.They are now 18, 20 and 22. We have been re-united for several years.

Always Close

My oldest daughter J.Lucy and I are very close. She lives in the Pacific Northwest, and while we don’t see each other often, we speak frequently. During one of our many conversations we discussed some pivotal plans for her future. I listened and asked if she would like to know what I thought. Boldly, and without hesitation, she said no. I told her anyway.

Later that same week J. Lucy called, and said something like “Mom, I didn’t want to listen to what you had to say, and I didn’t listen, but somehow I found myself telling someone exactly what you had told me.” She questioned how that could have possibly happened. Wanting to know how was it that she could do or say something I suggested, when she was so insistent on doing anything but that.

Mommy

We love Duke

Nobody really knows how mothers and daughters come to cement their relationship, ultimately allowing the balance of forgiveness and love to be the stronghold.  But if they’re lucky, it happens. My oldest daughter is courageous and determined. She isn’t fearful of saying what she thinks, and is generous enough to listen to what others have to say. Her attributes are too numerous to list. J.Lucy will graduate from college in June. She is ready to face the world, lipstick or no lipstick.

Ready

My phone rang again recently. No hi mom, instead J.Lucy said “I’m so glad you’re my Mom,” and the conversation continued from there. My own mother remained steadfast in believing that the turbulence of adolescence was just a phase we both had to endure. She loved me even when a seemingly innocuous suggestion she made was enough for me to alienate her. I thought instead that she was telling me what to do because she didn’t trust my judgment.  She tried so hard not to take anything I said to her personally.

Lipstick Love

Just Before My First Pregnancy

J.Lucy’s Mom

Three as One

I have struggled to have that same conviction, and not take anything personally that comes with the territory of young girls becoming women. J.Lucy and I have plodded through the muck to get to that other side. I have two other daughters to make this journey with, and am certain we will get there, it just may take a while.

Three Under Five

Mother-daughter relationships.

http://life.familyeducation.com/parenting/teen/42917.html

I will be reading Raw Live on May 19 and June 9 at Sailboat Bend Artist Lofts

http://www.facebook.com/events/263772817041266/