My daughters
I have two daughters who I love dearly. Both are high powered career women in their early 30s. One is married with two children and the other is getting married in the Summer. Both are trained in man-management and dealing with difficult situations.
So why, when it comes to planning a hen night is there such an issue?
Do they speak the same language to each other, I ask myself. One tells me one thing and the other says something different. They have clearly had the same conversation, but each has an alternative slant. Perception is how we see and hear a situation often in different ways – this is a clear example.
Daughter #2, the one getting married, has her bridesmaids arranging the hen night. She knows what she wants but also wants to ensure that whatever is arranged, everyone invited is happy to do. Did I not teach her that you can’t please everybody?
She is not prepared to say “I want to do this and please arrange it”.
Daughter #1 can’t understand why it has to be a weekend away.
“What is the matter with going to the pub?” she asked.
She was married 10 years ago, things have changed since then.
Daughter #2 says “All I want is for her to say she will come for the whole weekend, I don’t know what she is doing”.
Daughter #1 says “We have spoken at length regarding the weekend”.
Wiser friends are adamant that a mother MUST NOT get involved in daughter to daughter discussions, as it is the mother who will come away with egg on her face. She only has to get it wrong and mum is the one who is the villan.
I know, I do listen, I have tried to keep my own counsel, but when daughter #2 asks if I would speak to daughter #1 to say how important is it to her that she comes for the whole weekend, it is very difficult to say no.
So when daughter #1 responds that she values her weekends with her children, and doesn’t really want to be away all weekend, when she could just go for the Saturday and take the late train home, what can I say?
I can see both sides. I just want to sit on the fence please.
It was so much easier when they were little. I would sit them down and explain both points of view (probably biased towards my point of view, because that would make life easier). I was the tough one, “The Mum”, the one who said what was what. Hugs, cuddles, gentle words, a drink and a biscuit would solve almost all differences of opinion. Now I tread lightly and meter every word for fear I have misinterpreted their words and make things worse. They still need me, though, mum is there to sort out problems no matter how old you are. The phone will always be answered, text and emails will always be responded to, and no plea for assistance will be refused.
The bottom line is that my two toughies are just jelly babies inside.
