When it comes to questions that my child has, I answer them open and honestly.  Because for 1) I'm such a bad liar, I feel that even my 6-year-old could pick this up, 2) Her questions that catch me off guard and leave me silent are so innocent and honest, I feel that I owe that honesty back to her.

Tonight I made spaghetti-healthy spaghetti with turkey meat, Mrs. Dash low sodium seasoning, low-fat sauce, and topped it off with pounds of grated parmesan cheese. Hey, I tried.  My daughter and I said grace and turned on 'Wheel of Fortune'.  I dove into the spaghetti and she dove into my heart when she asked, "Mommy, why do we have different last names?"  I honestly never thought she would ask, nor did it cross my mind how I would ever prepare myself if she did. But how could I think this?  I know that I cringe every time I'm reminded of it.

My daughter's last name is 'Adams' and mine is 'Light'. New teachers will typically greet me with, "Hello Ms. Adams" or the receptionist at her pediatrician's office will simply ask, "Last name?" and I have to clarify if she's asking for mine or my daughters'. It's just a lot of mental work that becomes emotionally exhausting because it's a constant reminder.

She looked at me like she was different from me and the way she asked, I could hear the fear that she thought this meant she belonged less to me.  I HAD to be honest.  Even if I wasn't honest, what would be the alternative lie?  "Me and your father never married each other." I started eating again in hopes that that was it.  "Sooo, when y'all get married, then we can have the same last name or can I change mine to yours?"  Oh boy, once again, I should have gave the sugar coated Disney answer, but there wasn't one.  "Your father and I are friends and we won't be getting married.  I love you and you belong to me even if your last name was Pokémon"  I knew that would get her laughing and change the subject, it worked.  For her.

I'm going to be extremely transparent here and say that I wished that I had given her my last name when she was born.  Her father and I had a rocky relationship during my pregnancy but towards the end, we seemed to be doing better. He was by my side at delivery, supportive while I was in the hospital, and even seemed more loving.  When it came time to sign the birth certificate, there was no denial in my mind that we were a family and it was automatic for her to have his last name.  Four months later, we split with no chance of reconciliation.  If I had known that I would be the one filling out insurance forms, the one picking her up from school everyday, the one taking her to the dentist, the one filling out field trip consent forms with different last names, and most importantly the one answering her question, I would have given her my last name. It's a constant reminder that if my child was going to be an Adams, I should have been too.

You live and you learn, you live and bump your head along the way, and you learn even more.  I'm not sure if I answered her question the right or the wrong way, but I answered it and she understood. The most important thing that I can teach her as a human being that will one day roam the earth freely without me is taking ownership of your actions, whether they are considered mistakes or not.  Every decision carries a consequence, some are rewarding and some are not so rewarding. That's all I can do as a parent and that's all we can all ever do.  The best job we can, the best way we know how.