Almost 17, Hannah has lots to teach

Tomorrow, my daughter, who once couldn't say her R's -- so that "cows," not cars, drove down the road and tying her shoes was "hod," will turn 17.
If you don't think THAT is a moment for self-reflection, I venture to guess your youngest daughter hasn't hit that birthday yet.
Sixteen is oft coupled with sweet, as in "sweet 16 and never been kissed." And even though that's pretty much a historical comment, it does kind of capture the idea that 16 is still childhood.
Seventeen, however, is stepping on the threshold of adulthood, particularly for a girl. (Girls' maturity is a step ahead of that of boys, I think we'd all agree.)
How time flies
This approaching hallmark has made me monstrously aware of how fast time progresses, much more so than even my own birthday last week. It is in seeing our children grow up that we realize how dreadfully brief our lives are. While the changes in me have been sobering, the changes in Hannah have been absolutely intoxicating.
(There was a time when Hannah had the middle two fingers of her left hand shoved into her mouth nearly every waking hour. The sucking gave her inner calm. At 18 months, while so calming herself, she taunted me with her pointer finger.
I tipped my head to the side, then shook it, and said sternly, "You'd better not put that finger in your nose!"
She did, and there it stayed, for the better part of every day, until she left finger sucking behind at 5 years of age. Her independence now is different, but no less impressive. She is, and always has been, her own person.)
I read a study once that tried to find the reasons that some people had happy old ages while others did not. It might surprise you to find out that wealth and health didn't reach the top of the list. One thing that did was if an older person could handily answer this question: "What did you learn from your children?"
Those who considered themselves happy had no trouble identifying things. I suppose then, I shall be a happy old woman.
What I've learned
Here are some things I have learned from my soon-to-be 17-year-old:
Being quiet is not a negative. Quiet people often listen and think and speak only when it will really contribute something. And when a quiet person does warm up to you and lets down her hair, it's infinitely more special than when a gregarious person does.
It is sometimes judicious to just let things go. Heroism sometimes comes from accepting what cannot be changed; not everything is worth a fight.
Some people awaken with a smile, even if it is midnight, and the reason they awaken is that a parent tripped over a chair while putting away the laundry.
Confidence can come from small victories, like asking for a free balloon when you're a shy 4-year old, or asking a good-looking guy for a date, when you are becoming a more secure 16-year-old.
Shopping is actually fun when you take your daughter with you, especially when you are both secure enough to laugh at yourselves under fluorescent lights in a fitting room.
A fortune spent on a manicure can bring commensurate joy; i.e. one works for money to exchange it for things one really wants; this is a worthy exchange.
Sacrifice and parenting
The word sacrifice has absolutely nothing to do with parenting. Giving up things, delaying gratification, budgeting, volunteering, scrimping, yes; but sacrifice? No.
To be a better teacher. From knowing Hannah, I realize that not everyone's brain runs in a straight line like mine does and that the difference is marvelous and has wonderful results.
No goal is too big if you really want something. I've spent 16 years watching Hannah reach one goal after another. When she was a toddler, she saved pennies for a Cozy Coupe. She succeeded. When she got older, she did the same for a go-cart. She succeeded. (I can't wait to see the career goal she sets.)
Joy can come in a tiny little package that grows into a beautiful young woman.
murphy@vindy.com