National Make Your Daughter Cry Day

Warning:  This blog is totally sarcastic.

When the girls were little, I could tell what was wrong by their cries.  If they were hungry, they had a whiny sound and they would move their heads back and forth.  When they were tired, they would arch their back and turn.  When they were downright mad they would just wail.  

You get a break from the crying around the age of 3 until about…puberty.  They learn to communicate better, they use their words. Until their brains shift and you have to start over with a more complicated process.

Then, out of nowhere, it happens…the tears start and you do not know why.  You have to learn a complete crying language all over again.  And this time it is much MUCH more complicated.

There were seasons where Caroline lived on Caroline Street and Grace lived on Grace Street—and I was the one driving down both. Dropping them off, picking them up, and showing up when needed. But for a long time, those streets were one-way. Their needs. Their timing. Their feelings.

And then I had to gently (and many times not-so-gently) remind them that relationships go both ways.

That was hard. Not because they’re selfish—but because in the tween and teen years, emotions can completely hijack the brain. The logic goes out the window. And when you introduce the idea that the world doesn’t revolve around them? Cue the tears. Cue the drama. Cue the “motivational moments.”

Cue National Make Your Daughter Cry Day.

But eventually... they learn. And the road gets easier to travel—together.

I had to become the bubble popper and the truth-teller.  You have to pop the bubble that they float around in thinking about themselves.  Um, excuse me, but let me set you straight.  

One, until you pay the bills, your phone is mine.  

Two, I am not your Uber driver because you do not pay me any money to drive you.  Do not assume I can take you anywhere anytime.  It does not work that way.  

Three, we have four schedules in our house and you are responsible for yours and the work that it takes to prepare for your day.  

I will pick you up, your father will pick you up, someone will pick you up….sometime.  Be patient.  We may be late because we have lives, jobs, and commitments. 

The realization daily that the world does not revolve around you became

National Make Your Daughter Cry Day

There is the classic motivational moment “We Do Hard Things” speech. A timeless monologue that can be delivered in several fabulous ways.

Option one: The gentle bedtime version—when no one’s cried (yet), Mom still has a drop of patience left in her soul, and the house is calm enough to hear your thoughts. Rare. Sacred. Like spotting a unicorn.

Option two: The motivational version—delivered in a “You’ve got this!” tone, possibly while stirring spaghetti, listening to homework dilemmas, or more realistically, punching in the pizza order.

Option three: The unfiltered morning version—before coffee, before logic, before I’ve had time to fake it. You're standing in front of me in full panic because you forgot a massive project that’s due today. You had one job. This version includes yelling, crying, and gnashing of teeth—mine and yours.

Moral of the story?
“Do Hard Things” speech + bad timing = National Make Your Daughter Cry Day.

As I sat there, sometimes with a margarita in hand, interpreting the language of adolescent tears…I declared every day National Make Your Daughter Cry Day.  

There were moments when we judged the day as to how many times we cried or wanted to cry.

Why can’t this be a national freaking holiday?  

And if you have an adolescent girl, you are welcome to join in the festivities.  Tears….I mean CHEERS!!!