Yesterday marks an important step for our family.
Vivian was officially registered for school starting Fall 2008. The box for French Immersion checked off. The library browsed through. The fish tank stared at.
Mommy is a pile of freaking out, and it’s still nearly a year away.
It’s a progression, growing up. A slow (or rather, seemingly so) dance into the future, the necessary evil of moving on, casting off and looking beyond tomorrow. I ache for her future, and I can see if as if it’s on fast forward in front of me, speeding through pant sizes and shoe styles without pause or regard for the mother. Disappearing is my baby, on her way to becoming a woman.
I feel like I can see her growing with my eyes, not just in height, but inside, where it matters. Her empathy, her wicked humor, her intelligence-all are outpacing me already, and while part of me is blissfully happy about this, the other half cries and tries desperately to hold her down at the shoulders, willing her to grow no more.
Such is motherhood.
Kindergarten is only a portent of things to come, an omen. The loss of my daughter at my side, constant. The loss of my innocence, my ability to protect her. No longer shall she be so safe. Now I will need to begin the slow letting go into the care of strangers, the untangling noose of letting go which will never stop. I’ve spent the past 4 years learning how to be there for her, only to have to learn to step back and watch her flutter into the distance, gleaming.
And yes, she will always be there. But I will no longer be the sun she clings to for warmth. Instead, I will be the earth she counts on to plant her feet upon, the place she looks for strength. I will be the practical place, instead of the magical place where green buttons eat your hair.
It’s another year away, and I will grow as she does, irrevocably moving towards the future-hers bright and shiny, mine a little dulled but still full of hope. But I can’t help but miss her already, the her that was, the baby, the toddler, the preschooler. My first born, she who all my hopes seem to be placed on. I can’t help but to want that time back. It feels as if it was stolen from me, fickle as it is.
by Thordora
[tags]kids, children, parents, parenting, growing up, love, attachment, letting go, pride, school, exploration, learning, education, maturity[/tags]
Photo graciously provided by shoothead, through a Creative Commons license, some rights reserved
3 responses so far ↓
Slouching Mom // Oct 23, 2007 at 12:35 pm
I’ve spent the past 4 years learning how to be there for her, only to have to learn to step back and watch her flutter into the distance, gleaming.
Yes. It’s the essential conundrum of parenting, I think.
Busy Mom // Oct 23, 2007 at 12:40 pm
But, you know what? It’s exciting, too. So much for her to experience, and, do. It’s a lot of fun, and, that helps.
Stu Mark // Oct 23, 2007 at 3:41 pm
First, “Mommy is a pile of freaking out…” Brilliant phrase.
Second, I’m an adrenaline junkie, so I love it when they take risks outside of my control. It’s like hang-gliding or fire-walking for me. Parenting Is Fun!!
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