It was just yesterday I met her. Five year old, wide eyed exuberance. Bursting with energy, bubbling over into laughter. Hair thrown into lumpy, lopsided pigtails. Gaping holes where baby teeth once were, waiting for their permanent arrival. Scabbed knees and runny nose. Oblivious and carefree, crawling affectionately into laps.
Eleven years later, the five year old is gone but not forgotten. Hair neat and straight parted. Permanent teeth pulled straight by braces about to come off. Faded scars, the only thing left from scabs. The wide eyed exuberance is now focused on music, boys and fashion. Hot isn’t a temperature, it’s a guy.
The girl has become a young woman.
Sixteen is the magic number. Drivers licenses and dates without parental chaperone.
Today, is her first real date. We are sending her off with a boy she’s had a crush on and apparently, he her. The minute she turned sixteen, he asked her on a date. She asked permission, we gave it, she accepted.
And now begins new and unfamiliar parenting territory. One that our parents went through with us and now it begins in our lives. We are on the other end of the interrogation.
Now is the time, as a mother, that I am going to have to really stress to my daughters that they must never define themselves by the boys they like or date and they must never let the boys define who they are or what people think of them.
I am going to have to start stressing, once again, the importance of reputation protection, along with other sorts of protection.
I’m going to have mourn the loss of flying braids and freckles, cuddles and surprise kisses.
My girls and boys are becoming men and women. Their journey is just beginning as we watch from the sidelines trying not to prompt them too much or impose our opinions too heavily.
No, I don’t think tatted up guys with cigarettes are cute but if that’s what you like, then fine. Just don’t expect us to let them in when they show up at our door.
No, I’m not thrilled about the fact that most of the guys you like are ones I’d never pick for you.
But yes, you’re 16. You’re learning who and what you like. Your taste will change so often, the same as it does with perfume and clothes.
On to the next seasons styles.
First five. Then 16. Next, you’re my age.
Every step my children take in this life makes me realize how unprepared I am for the next step because I’m still reeling from the last.
I’m not ready for this. I’m not ready for them to grow up.
But I have no choice, just like my parents and their parents before them.
Here we are, we’ve met at the same crossroad. Getting ready to leave, slowly. Getting ready to let go, maybe a little slower.
Teary eyed, looking at the past while tiptoeing toward the future.
Trying, unsuccessfully, to slow it all down while they are trying to speed things up.
High five-ing at that cross-road, best of luck, love you. See you at the next one.
That is so true. We are forever trying to stop time while all they want to do is make it go faster. At least you have a younger one to grab hold of while she is out on her date!
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Awwwww….I’m never letting Gorgeous date…ever.
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I know exactly what you are feeling! My one and only has received his college acceptance letters. I am so excited for him one minute and then crying while I mourn the loss of my little boy. “They” told me it would go by fast….but I didn’t think it would be THIS fast.
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Every stage makes me realize how hard it was for my mother.
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They do grow up fast don’t they. My daughter is only 2 and I think about all that stuff. They are growing so fast and each stage brings a little bit more independence and I’m not liking that-I want to keep her little forever-lol!
Oh, the next journey on the parenthood path! I went through the “sixteen-datinghood” stage just a few short years ago and will do it yet again in another two short years from now! And even though I already did it once, I STILL won’t be ready this next time!
“Teary eyed, looking at the past while tiptoeing toward the future.”
I LOVED this line! Yes, we DO want them to grow-up, however, we SO miss their “babyness” when we could protect them from everything except skinned knees and bee bites. Which were so much easier to handle.
Thank you for sharing this beautifully written piece. Every mom should read it because every mom can or will be able to relate!
Big ((hugs)) to you.
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