How I Realized I was a Grownup: My Daughter is Starting High School
Today is my kids’ first day back to school.
I woke up and got dressed. Had Alexa announce that it was 7:05 and they needed to be up for school. I stretched, did some mundane things around my room, and got up to get them going.
I am not a morning person. I hate them. I think of 6 a.m. as the stinky part of the day, you know, because its the “crack” of dawn. LOL. I hate getting out of bed and being awake and doing things, so naturally, I became a parent.
What is more fun than sleeping in and doing what I want? Fighting with children about getting up and going to school, and I get to do it for the next decade. It used to be a nightmare to get my daughter, my oldest, up for school in the morning. It seemed like every day was a battle. She was sick, she was tired, she didn’t want to go.
For the past few days she has been floundering betwee being excited and nervous and scared. She didn’t know what the day held for her. She wondered what the year would bring. She even lamented that now that she “was old,” time had passed her by and she wished she could slow down and enjoy being her age.
Watching her mature these past few months has brought a rush of memories back for me.
I remember walking through the halls of my soon-to-be high school. Taking it all in. Excited, nervous, scared. Just like she is now.
I feel like I can look forward and see the trajectory of her life. It will be amazing and I am so excited for her.
Not because she is going to win the lottery, or because she is rich and famous, or because she will be an astronaut. I can see her going to college, getting a job, getting her first apartment. I marvel at all the ordinary things, as though extraordinary, because I made this person.
I made these tiny people.
So often I discount them. “You are a child,” I say knowingly. “You aren’t ready for the world.” But truthfully, half the time I worry that the world isn’t ready for them.
They are smart and funny and interested in learning. They absorb every single thing I say, even when I am convinced they are not listening. They have opinions, ideas, and their own unique sense of humor.
I knock on her door. She is already up, dressed, hair and makeup done; and I think to myself: “where did the time go?” I like to think that they are still babies, it hasn’t even been that long since I taught them to walk, right? Now she is preparing to dual enroll in college and high school. She is an accomplished Clarinetist. She has a good group of friends, and a good head on her shoulders.
I open the door to the boys’ room and my oldest son is also dressed and fishing for socks. I am so proud I could burst. I turn and look over at my 2nd grader’s bed. He is still a pile of blankets. At least one of them is still little. It’s just another day in paradise.
I’ve been holding their hand for so long. Waiting for them to put on their shoes. Waiting for them to get dressed. Waiting for them to be people, that I didn’t notice they have become people before my eyes.
My youngest comes out in his slacks and t-shirt. His hair is a rumpled mess. I laugh and lament to myself about the hair cut I meant to do yesterday.
So many things.
We enjoy a peaceful morning of cinnamon toast and emptying backpacks. I see the boys off to school, before taking my daughter to high school.
“Goodbye Boys! Have a great day!” I shout after them. Again I am trying not to tear up. “Be a sponge for knowledge.” i shout down the street. “Be friendly to make friends.” “Knowledge is power. How much knowledge do you want?” All of it. “Why do we want all the power?” Because that is how we level up.
They are half way down the block. I am still shouting. “I love you. Have a great day!” I just can’t help myself. They are my tiny men, marching forward into the world together. How is it that every mother isn’t on her porch shouting loving words of encouragement to their children?
I take my daughter to school. She is still nervous.
“If I call you crying, will you come get me?” You won’t. “What if a senior picks on me?” Let it roll off your back, like water off a duck. The best way to respond is to laugh along with them. Take their power. You will be okay. Wait, was that last bit for me or her?
I realize I forgot my phone. I forgot to take pictures. How will I remember this moment on facebook in ten years, if there is no photo to document it? Then I remember she has her own phone.
“Take a selfie and tag me!” I say breathlessly as she moves to exit the car. She does. “I‘ll tag you.”
It was the best photo I have seen of us in a while.
I watch her walk into the school and shout “make good choices,” like I need to remind her.
They will make good choices, and bad ones too, but they will be making their own choices. They each have a good head on their shoulders. They have their own strengths and weaknesses. But most importantly, they have each other.
I’m so proud, I could burst.
I just want to remember this day. As my hair starts to grey, my skin starts to age, time passes me slowly. Sometimes I feel like a rose in full bloom. I look in the mirror and suddenly I am a grownup. I just want to hold on to as many moments as I can, because moments like these are moments of love.
Moments of love are the days of our lives.
What about you? How do you mark the passage of time? Do you have the school year blues too? Tell me about them in the comments, and follow me for more inspiration.
As always, my friends, enjoy the GLO!
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