Mother's Prerogative

This is my beautiful baby girl, Megan, and boy does she hate it when I post pictures like this one. She is painting her toenails here, and looking to me just like the 3 year old who loved to pretend with her toy compact to put on makeup and style her hair. How did this woman, who is so dramatcally unlike me spring from my loins? Where in the world did she come from? How did I get so lucky? I will never understand it.

She stayed with me last night. She drops in from time to time to do her laundry, visit her mommy, paint her toenails and get a good night's sleep. I wish she would do it more often. I wish she would do it every day, so I could get more pictures like this one. She warned me about posting it, but I'm powerless over my adoration of her, especially when she looks like this, and simply must. Sorry honey.

She prefers pictures like this one partying with her friends at a weekend cabin in Big Bear. In the lower left-hand corner, she sent it to me, so I guess it's OK to share.

Or this one, hair-styled, make up on and maybe photo-shopped just a little. She is a graphic designer afterall.

Or this one with Dexie and a visiting friend from Colorado. These 2 have been best buds since the second grade and cherish each other's friendship. I cherish the memories of the 2 of them together, bickering, playing, swimming, learning and loving each other.

All of her life I dragged her from one rural pursuit to another and it was never in her blood. She loves, loves, loves all animals but roping bored her to tears. After a while, I couldn't even pay her to work the chute. She always had horses growing up, and took perfect care of them, but she wanted to learn to surf. When we lived on the ranch, she longed to move to town. The last 3 miles of phone line to the ranch house was our responsibility, and I could never make her understand why she couldn't have her own phone. I know the memories are precious to her now, but her little apartment 5 blocks from the beach in the seaside village of Carlsbad is her favorite address. When I went there, my palms would sweat until I was once again East of Interstate 15.

Yup, these are the photos that I love the best. Kickin' it with her mom, comfortables on, no makeup with her hair wadded up on her head. Hmmm, I guess we're not so different after all.