WATFORD CITY, ND — “Mom, I’m disappointed about something,” my almost 9-year-old daughter said as we walked out the door together after school art class.

“Oh no, what is it? What happened?” I asked, knowing it could be anything from spilled milk on her favorite crisp lunch (latest incident), problems with friends at school, or a bad grade on a test. When you’re almost 9 years old, the possibilities for disappointment are endless.

“It was a recall day and …”

“Oh no,” I replied before she could even finish her sentence, suddenly remembering something I had completely forgotten “And . . .”

“And dad did hair!”

Contributed / Jessie Veeder

We said it at the same time, locking eyes, she looked at me for my reaction and I looked at her in her pink Nike shirt and long, sleek hair.

Was this going to be a crying situation? I wondered in 2 milliseconds before we both started laughing.

“I’m so sorry!” I declared between howls. “I completely forgot!”

“Well,” she replied, running both hands through her husband to mimic the slicked-back hairstyle she left the house with. “But these isn’t it goes on someone’s fridge.”

“Why did it have to be the day Dad cut his hair?!” I wondered out loud to the parenting gods. “And why didn’t you tell him you don’t like your hair that way?”

“I didn’t want to hurt his feelings,” she replied, melting my oblivious heart in front of her younger sister, dressed in a purple athletic tank top, dirty sweatpants, and her sister’s hand-me-down cardigan. pretty sure I blinked.”

I laughed and apologized all the way to the car, knowing how much it must have killed my type-A oldest daughter to be surprised by the news without the picture day ritual of the special hairdo and special outfit we’ve done every picture day before, and no time to fix her slicked-back hair in the mirror before the big “Say cheese!” I would have felt really bad about the whole thing if we both didn’t think it was so funny.

Because this week that Type-A daughter turns 9. We’ve been planning her sleepover birthday party for weeks now, the cake and the food and the sleeping bag arrangement. She asked for teenage clothes. And also, perhaps for the last time, a new baby doll.

Recently, during a late night scrolling session, I came across the term “middle mom”.

It’s a new-age term that describes the time in motherhood when a parent no longer has a baby on her hip, but she’s not planning a graduation.

She’s in between raising the “small” and the “big”, with random sippy cups still shoved into the forgotten corners of her cupboards and neglected baby toys lying low in the depths of the toy drawers. I basked in the light from my phone screen and turned to an online search for that baby doll.

Contributed / Jessie Veeder

Because as much as I am an “in-between” mom, my daughter is in a similar in-between phase of her girlhood years playing with her dollhouse and requests that her hair be done like the varsity volleyball players we saw last week.

She’s been hauled off to play pretend in the woods behind our house after spending the school day navigating the cliques and nuances of friend dynamics, tearfully wondering why some kids can be so mean.

She is the teacher in the pretend classroom game with her younger sister and cousins ​​and is upset when they switch mid-game to pretend they are mermaids.

She believes in Santa Claus, but if she thinks about it too much, she knows it’s just because she’s holding on.

Because it is fleeting.

Honey, I know it too. Some days I wish you could stay that chubby, frog-catching girl who only wears blue dresses.

But then you look at me and laugh the laugh of a young lady who knows what’s important and what to let go. You laugh the laugh of a girl who realizes how lucky she is to have a dad who does her hair and a crazy mom who forgets things and then, well, I’m so happy to be in the middle with you.

And happy to have a perfectly imperfect photo to look back on and remind me of.

---

READ MORE OF JESSIE’S UPCOMING HOME COLUMN

Greetings from the ranch in western North Dakota and thank you so much for reading. If you’re interested in more stories and reflections on rural life, its characters, heartbreaks, triumphs, absurdity and what it means to live, love and parent in the middle of nowhere, check out more of my Coming Home columns below. As always, I love hearing from you! Get in touch at [email protected].