Issue #14: Girlhood, Then and Now

Holding our memories while making space for theirs

“What was your favorite piece of clothing when you were my age?”

“What was your favorite song?”

“Who was your favorite singer?”

These are the rapid fire questions I’ve been getting from my almost nine year old daughter lately. There’s excitement in her voice, like she’s trying to crack a code, to connect with the third grade version of me.

The answers pop into my head without hesitation. I smile as I tell her, “I had this shiny, metallic silver puffer coat from GAP that made me feel so cool. My good friend Christopher used to joke that I looked like an astronaut, but I still loved it and wore it with pride. I loved the song “Wannabe” by the Spice Girls, and Britney Spears was everything.”

She’s grinning from ear to ear, nodding like she’s mentally building a picture of me in her mind.

Lately, I find myself thinking a lot about girlhood—hers and mine.

At nearly nine, hers looks like weekly tween art classes with friends filled with collaging vision boards and beading bracelets. It’s the joy (and mental health boost) of Run Club, with “Wide Open Spaces” by The Chicks inevitably playing on repeat in her head. It’s saving up for rainbow hair chalk from a favorite local kids’ boutique, biking all over the city (!) as a family, building forts with her brother on a Saturday morning, and bubbling with excitement about being a Mother’s Helper. It’s always having her nose in a book (preferably a Baby-Sitters Club graphic novel), crafting homemade birthday cards with pastel paint pens (mini hearts over the i’s, of course) and decorating picture frames with sparkly stickers and patterned washi tape to hold the sweetest memories with friends. It’s carefully studying the lyrics to her favorite Taylor Swift song (currently “Love Story,” which instantly takes me back to my high school days) and belting them out every time it plays in the car. I’m thankful everyday that she’s my daughter. She’s kind, thoughtful, and busy becoming herself.

Watching her grow brings my own girlhood rushing back in vivid flashes. I remember choreographing talent show dances to “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough”, biking around the neighborhood on sunny Saturdays, and spending way too much time at the local scrapbooking store, excited to capture vacation memories on each page. I remember watching Now and Then at sleepovers (definitely not age appropriate), prank calling boys we thought were cute, and swinging on the backyard playset between runs through the sprinkler with my sister.

It was a season that came and went in a blur, but it left behind tiny moments, vivid memories, and special people who still live somewhere deep inside me.

I’m not sure if my friends in this season of life know this about me, but I’m still incredibly close with many of the girls who made my own girlhood feel so alive. These were the women smiling back at me from the second row at my wedding, and now they’re the ones hearting our newsletter posts, texting me each week about what resonated, and sometimes even leaving a comment just to show their support. None of them live nearby anymore, but we’ve stayed tethered. We’ve cheered each other on through graduations, marathons, marriages, miscarriages, babies, long postpartum days, and all the ordinary ones in between. I’ve prioritized showing up when it counts—on the brightest days and the heaviest ones too.

I love that we’re in a season where we get to share the experience of motherhood. We lean on each other now the way we once did through painful breakups. They knew me way back when. They don’t just see glimpses of me in my daughter—they see the parts of me that never really left. It’s a beautiful kind of full circle. One I hold onto tightly.

And lately, I’ve been reconnecting with that younger version of myself, too. The girl who played Pretty Pretty Princess at sleepovers, collected all things Lisa Frank, and belted out Celine Dion into a hairbrush. I see her when I’m sticker-ing with my daughter, dancing in the kitchen to songs from the Broadway show & Juliet, or putting on something girly just because it makes me feel good.

Maybe that’s part of the magic of raising a daughter. You don’t just witness her girlhood—you hold yours, too. Maybe Girlhood doesn’t ever really disappear. It softens, shifts, and weaves itself into who we become.

And through our daughters, we get the chance to meet her again.

“The Bridesmaid’s Speech” by Kate Baer

The idea to write about girlhood came to me after watching a Substack Live conversation between Joanna Goddard of Big Salad and the poet Kate Baer. It felt like listening in on two close friends reflecting on motherhood, marriage, and female friendship. The highlight for me was when Kate read her beautiful poem, “The Bridesmaid’s Speech.” It immediately brought to mind my childhood friend Karli and the toast she gave at my wedding.

Karli and I met in our tween years, and our friendship has grown and evolved right alongside us. She’s the kind of friend who taught me how good it feels to have a great friend and how much better it feels to be one. I’m so grateful she was willing to share a snippet from her heartfelt toast, along with reflections on her own girlhood, her young daughters, and the way she hopes to hold it all in the years to come.

“Amelia is everyone’s biggest fan. She is ever-present on your sideline-whether it’s with pom-poms, written notes or endless praise and encouragement, she’s there. For me, she has been a one-woman support team and 24-hour call center. She has been one of my biggest proponents and cheerleaders throughout my personal and professional endeavors.

For those of you who know her well, you’ve very likely been beneficiaries of her undying kindness and radiating ebullience. For those of you who have not, I recommend strongly that you forge a closer friendship because she epitomizes loyalty and devotion.”

Wow! It’s been nearly 11 years since I read that at Amelia and Mike’s rehearsal dinner, and I wouldn’t change a word. I know it was one of Amelia’s most cherished days, but it’s really one of mine too. There’s something so special about lifelong friendship and getting a front row seat to the most anticipated and exciting moments. I hope one day my daughter has a friend like Amelia and a friend like me, who truly treasures and adores friendship.

Amelia and I met in the sixth grade, when I was the new kid and she was the veteran. She was friendly, warm and embraced me right away. She made the start of middle school at a brand new school feel safer, easier. Over the years, our parents issued countless complaints about the hours we spent on the phone, sometimes calling each other on the way to and from a sleepover. Our friendship was the kind where we could (and did) talk about everything or absolutely nothing. After our high school graduation, we found each other in the crowd, hugged, and cried—sharing both the excitement of what lay ahead and the sadness of leaving something behind. Our special friendship shaped how I think about connection and what I hope my daughter finds one day.

My daughter Leslie is five. Finding out I was pregnant with a girl was one of the happiest moments of my life. I was so excited to do all the girly things, to connect with a daughter, to relive girlhood in a new way. Leslie proudly tells people, “When my mom found out she was having me, it was the greatest day ever.” It’s true and I’m glad she’s heard me say it.

At five, girlhood currently looks like dance class (mostly for the recitals), lukewarm soccer practices (the team sport thing is a hard concept), and a deep love of skiing, biking, and swimming. We climb trees and build homes for bugs. We love a girly outfit and getting nails done. We’re nurturing in spirit (hit or miss with her own little brother) but incredibly gentle with everyone else’s (IYKYK). We’re working on reading, learning uppercase vs. lowercase letters, excitedly experimenting with science, and counting down the days until kindergarten. She’s curious, imaginative, and busy becoming herself.

Recently, I attended an art class with a new but dear friend. The young woman leading the class asked how we knew each other. “Through our daughters,” we replied. “They met last year in preschool.” She smiled and said, “My best friend and I met in preschool. Our moms are best friends. The four of us just went to a Taylor Swift concert together.” My friend and I, quick to tear up, looked at each other, silently hoping that might one day be our girls and us.

I love a date night, but I live for a girls’ night. There’s a particular cup that only a girlfriend can fill. I make it a priority to see my friends a few times a month, whether it’s a mid-day lunch or a Saturday night dinner, and it might be the most soul filling part of my life right now. I love that my kids know this about me. That they know my friends by name. That they feel comfortable around them. That they see, up close, what deep, lasting friendship looks like.

I’m writing this from a girls’ trip in Mexico with seven women I met through my daughter’s school. Between the sun, the beach, the conversation, and the utter lack of responsibilities, it’s been deeply cup filling. Our conversations have traced the arc of girlhood into womanhood, silly selfies and 90s karaoke, yes, but also honest talk about kids, work, and aging parents. There has been nostalgia for younger times and reflecting on childhood moments. We all place a high value on friendship and connection.

So much has changed. And yet, so much hasn’t.

Karli, thank you for sharing so thoughtfully. I read your words through teary eyes and moments of laughter. I loved every bit of it!

Rose:

Amelia - Our school hosted its annual End of Year family picnic this past Wednesday, and it’s always one of my favorite events. I love seeing the kids so excited to reunite and run around together (after maybe two hours apart!). It’s also nice getting the chance to catch up with parents from other grades. Our school really nails the whole community building thing!

Liz - I’m still riding the high from last weekend, between Mother’s Day and all the sweet love (and humor - Gus told his teachers I was 100 years old and smell like hamburgers on the “All About Mom” sheet) bestowed upon me, and my son’s First Communion celebration. I don’t consider myself the most religious person, I’m still figuring out how religion plays a part in my life and my childrens’ lives, but there is no denying it was a special day for my son and our family. Extra bonus: it was absolutely wonderful to see my nieces and nephew who live far away :)

A mini “rose” to include as well - another lovely neighborhood book club gathering this week where we went all out on food and beverage on theme with our recent book, and chose an interesting story I’m excited to dive into, for our next read.

Thorn:

Amelia - I had a few tough moments with my kids this week that I wish I’d handled better. I hate that feeling of wanting to take something back, of wishing I’d stayed calm, wishing I could “put the toothpaste back in the tube”, so to speak. I’m reminding myself that this is what repair is for, and that tomorrow is a new day. Anyone else have any less than stellar parenting moments this week? (Liz: giving you a virtual hug and reminding you… it’s ok, it’s normal and believe me, I’VE (we’ve all!) been there! Give yourself grace and give your kiddo a hug.)

Liz - A weird random spring sickness hit our house. Two out of the three boys had a fever and were extra tired, so annoying and such a bummer, and hard for mama to be productive (insert facepalm emoji).

Bud:

Amelia - A simple bud, but one I’m really looking forward to…family time. My husband was abroad for part of this week and I’m just happy he’s home. I’ve been craving some much needed time all together.

Liz - We’re chilling with my nine month old nephew this weekend while his parents travel to a wedding! Four boys in the house, bring it on! I’m pumped for some baby snuggles, and will be repeating “embrace the chaos!” for the next several days ha! (Amelia: You’ve got this, Super Mama! Can’t wait to hear all about it!)

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