Bastille Day, my daughter turns 20

On Saturday my daughter turned 20. That's 20 years for me as a mom. While the passage of time has always been notable, the birthday celebrations have not. I probably have too much of my own birthday baggage. Slumber parties gone horribly wrong with crying fits from jealousy and social insecurities. For years I did throw her parties but I don't remember them being that much fun. The memories are of stress and relief, not joy. Although it was amusing to let the girls camp out in the Split Screen RV one year when it was parked by the house. Then she was often away at sleep away camp. Last year she was working. The year before grounded.

This Bastille Day, light years away from any other in terms of personal learning curve and growth, she originally planned to throw a bbq at her new place. Starting later than expected, we decided instead to have brunch before I treat her to the food shopping. Kerbey Lane for migas con queso w/ verde sauce on the side. We take our time, the three of us (including the live-in boyfriend) having too good a time to do anything else. We end up back at the house, hanging with Dad and bro w/ some of his friends, relaxed, happy, good to all be together. After a short break, we re-convene for dinner at Dona Emilios for delicious food and pitchers of Mojitos. John leaves us, G's girlfriend takes his place, and we crack up at Maestro - the comedy improv competition show at the Hideout. It's funny to be at this little event at my daughter's suggestion, comparing where we laugh and don't. A moment for me to tag along in their life together. Then out for after drinks at the Elephant Bar - meeting up with a graffiti artist pal of the bf. He has a totally cool look - black hat, fabulous strong graphic tee. We admire his newest badass tattoo. Listen while the guys talk about "back in the day." I'm seeing my daughter in her life. Enjoying it all.

Dropping me off at home (after Claudette's sums up my mothering: "Your mom's great! Doesn't say anything about the fake ID and the drinks out, but she's complaining about the open glass of water in your car!" - which was dead on - I was appalled at the open glass in the console, filled with water. Hadn't they ever heard of water bottles? But I digress....) dropping me off at my house, while the bf steps outside to pee, my daughter gives me a hug and says, 'This was the best birthday ever!" I'm touched, and humbled, appreciative and grateful.