Once upon a time she was my baby girl. One might have called her timid. Her fear of new experiences was palpable and, at times, frustrating for her more adventurous mother. Now she's a "big girl" going to kindergarten and the girl is literally on top of the world. Only a few months ago she decided that reading was rather fun. She's now a pro. About the same time she conquered her fear of the monkey bars and now scales them with ease. A couple of months later her swimming lessons paid off and she begged me to take her to the pool everyday to practice. Her new love is riding her bike, which she figured out two weeks ago, technically, but we're still tweaking the safety skills. You know, little things like stopping, riding on the right side of the road, checking for cars before crossing busy streets...
As if that wasn't enough, last week I sat her down for her first piano lesson. Though she was a bit disappointed that I was her teacher, I must not have been that bad because she spent the next hour plucking out the first three songs in the manual. She's practiced every day since.
My feelings are mixed concerning her newfound burst of confidence. It seems, at times, like some twisted form of early adolescent recklessness. Don't get me wrong, I'm more than happy to encourage her as she dives into new activities. It means she's self-assured, right? But when I'm greeted with statements like "Mom, I swim so good I don't even need lessons anymore!" or "Mom, why'd you pick me up from school again! I wanted to ride my bike home!", or "I don't like using my fourth and fifth fingers (to play the piano), Mom", I'm left to wonder if, in fact, these recent developments are more an expression of rebellion. You know, a way of saying, "I don't really need you anymore, mom."
It hurts a little. And scares me a lot. Because I can't ensure her survival anymore. I know, it sounds dramatic. Probably just a mother's reaction to sending her oldest off to be schooled by complete strangers in a classroom of 23 unfamiliar kids. I guess I'll just let her have her moment of glory and hope for the day that she comes back to earth and figures out that mom actually knows what she's talking about. At least some of the time. Until then, I'll cross my fingers that she doesn't kill herself.
As if that wasn't enough, last week I sat her down for her first piano lesson. Though she was a bit disappointed that I was her teacher, I must not have been that bad because she spent the next hour plucking out the first three songs in the manual. She's practiced every day since.
My feelings are mixed concerning her newfound burst of confidence. It seems, at times, like some twisted form of early adolescent recklessness. Don't get me wrong, I'm more than happy to encourage her as she dives into new activities. It means she's self-assured, right? But when I'm greeted with statements like "Mom, I swim so good I don't even need lessons anymore!" or "Mom, why'd you pick me up from school again! I wanted to ride my bike home!", or "I don't like using my fourth and fifth fingers (to play the piano), Mom", I'm left to wonder if, in fact, these recent developments are more an expression of rebellion. You know, a way of saying, "I don't really need you anymore, mom."
It hurts a little. And scares me a lot. Because I can't ensure her survival anymore. I know, it sounds dramatic. Probably just a mother's reaction to sending her oldest off to be schooled by complete strangers in a classroom of 23 unfamiliar kids. I guess I'll just let her have her moment of glory and hope for the day that she comes back to earth and figures out that mom actually knows what she's talking about. At least some of the time. Until then, I'll cross my fingers that she doesn't kill herself.
4 comments:
It is hard to watch your baby grow up. I remember going through that with my twins and it was tough! Just remember she will always need her mommy...mabey just in a little different way.
Just wait. She hasn't argued with you about something her teacher told her that you can't possibly know anything about because you're her mom (or dad), like biology or spelling or history.
Danny and I are viewing your blog and the first thing that Danny said when it uploaded is "whoa, Anna looks just like Susie!" We loved this post and gives us something to uh....look forward to....I guess??
In some ways we are living parallel lives.
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