Dear Teenage Daughter,

There is nothing more I want in the universe than for you to like me.

I want you to be happy; I want to make you happy. I want you to say (and truly feel) that I am the best, funniest and coolest mom in the world. I want you to love your life, and I want to provide a life that you love.

However, I also want you to make it through high school and college safely with zero addictions, and with your morality and self-esteem intact. I want you to have as little regret and heartache as humanly possible. I want you to grow into a responsible, healthy, well-adjusted adult without fighting and clawing your way there (like I did).

I have learned that in order to keep you safe, protected and raise you responsibly, I have to say “no” to you—sometimes a lot. I have to tell you that you cannot hang out with certain people you want to hang out with, or go certain places you want to go when I feel that it is not in your best interest.

When you cross the line, I have found that the only effective way for you to learn a lesson is when there are consequences. These things hurt, and they all get in the way of your liking me and us being friends; in fact, they often make you hate me.

So, while I am failing miserably at getting you to like me and think I’m cool, it is worth the trade if I succeed at being a good mother to you. I will wait to be friends with you if it means you will enter adulthood with as few scars as possible; because you, my precious girl, are worth the wait.

Love,
Mom

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Editor: Catherine Monkman

Photo: Frankie Wiles