Here’s a dirty little secret for you – I’m a little pissed off that Stella keeps growing up.
I know this isn’t exactly a flattering thing to admit. But it’s true.
Don’t get me wrong, most parts of her development and growth are spectacular and gratifying to me. Almost every part of her amazes me. Actually, everything about her amazes me.
But the way she said “banana” to me the other day honestly pissed me off.
One of Stella’s first words was “banana.” But it wasn’t actually “banana.” And it wasn’t the typical kid-version, “nana.” She would point to a banana and say “balabalabaloo.” And like any good parent, I thought she was brilliant and genius and special. And it made us laugh. We’d be at the grocery store and she would proudly shout “balabalabaloo” to anyone and everyone who would listen.
But the other day, Stella looked at the bananas on the counter and clearly said, with great refinement and poise, “banana.”
After I animatedly praised her for telling her what she wanted and telling me so clearly, I felt this drastic dip in the pit of my stomach. My baby. My BABY! MY BABY!!!
Crap. I’m one of those moms now. I’m holding on too tightly.
Oh dear.
Everyday I feel honored and blessed to have a such a rockin’ front row seat for Stella’s leaps and bounds. But I have to admit to feeling a bit of sadness as I watch and marvel. She’s growing up. She’s getting smarter. And one day she’ll be all grown up and totally smarter than me and the Papa. And she won’t be my baby. (Well, she’ll always be my baby. But she won’t be a baby.) It’s a tough compromise, this parenting gig. While we spend endless amounts of energy helping prepare these babes for the world, providing a safe haven from all the physical, emotional and intellectual speed bumps they’ll encounter in life, they grow up. And that’s part of what’s so fulfilling about all this, but it’s also part of what’s so hard about it all. I’m realizing we don’t spend a whole lot of time preparing ourselves for all these speed bumps. I imagine most parents feel just as if not more wrecked by their children’s heartaches as the actual children. And whether our kids are two years old or twenty years old, we certainly don’t properly honor the challenge parents face as they allow their children to journey along their own path.
But if we’re good parents, we let them go. And as we let them go, we let go of our notions of who they were and who we think they should or could be. I have to remember what my mom has always said to me, as a young girl and now as a mother myself: our main job as parents, aside from loving the bujeezus out of our kids, is to allow them to fly for themselves. And letting them fly means they’ll do just that – fly. And we’re kidding ourselves if we think they’ll always fly close to home or fly a predictable path.
Or stay cute and compact forever. Bummer.
Of course, I’ve got a long way to go before my chick flies the coop. But this silly replacement of balabalabaloo with banana signals the slow shift that, in part, defines our relationship with our children. And this is when I remind myself that the Papa and I didn’t choose to have a child to create a static snapshot of family. We’re not raising Stella to essentially grow into us or to grow so that she satisfies us. However uncomfortable this can be, Stella is going to be different than we envision. She’ll make different choices, she’ll feel different feelings and she’ll most certainly react differently to the world than us. So instead of shouting “Will you just stop it already! Stop growing up so darned fast!” – which is exactly what I want to shout at times – I’m trying to sit back and enjoy this evolution that really isn’t mine. And if banana sounds better to her than balabalabaloo, so be it. Banana it is.
Besides, there’s always positives that balance – and undeniably outweigh – the negatives. This morning, Stella turned to me after our morning stories and gently said “Hug?” We hugged and I made contented peace with the fact that bananas are indeed accompanied by heart-busting loads of love.
I know this isn’t exactly a flattering thing to admit. But it’s true.
Don’t get me wrong, most parts of her development and growth are spectacular and gratifying to me. Almost every part of her amazes me. Actually, everything about her amazes me.
But the way she said “banana” to me the other day honestly pissed me off.
One of Stella’s first words was “banana.” But it wasn’t actually “banana.” And it wasn’t the typical kid-version, “nana.” She would point to a banana and say “balabalabaloo.” And like any good parent, I thought she was brilliant and genius and special. And it made us laugh. We’d be at the grocery store and she would proudly shout “balabalabaloo” to anyone and everyone who would listen.
But the other day, Stella looked at the bananas on the counter and clearly said, with great refinement and poise, “banana.”
After I animatedly praised her for telling her what she wanted and telling me so clearly, I felt this drastic dip in the pit of my stomach. My baby. My BABY! MY BABY!!!
Crap. I’m one of those moms now. I’m holding on too tightly.
Oh dear.
Everyday I feel honored and blessed to have a such a rockin’ front row seat for Stella’s leaps and bounds. But I have to admit to feeling a bit of sadness as I watch and marvel. She’s growing up. She’s getting smarter. And one day she’ll be all grown up and totally smarter than me and the Papa. And she won’t be my baby. (Well, she’ll always be my baby. But she won’t be a baby.) It’s a tough compromise, this parenting gig. While we spend endless amounts of energy helping prepare these babes for the world, providing a safe haven from all the physical, emotional and intellectual speed bumps they’ll encounter in life, they grow up. And that’s part of what’s so fulfilling about all this, but it’s also part of what’s so hard about it all. I’m realizing we don’t spend a whole lot of time preparing ourselves for all these speed bumps. I imagine most parents feel just as if not more wrecked by their children’s heartaches as the actual children. And whether our kids are two years old or twenty years old, we certainly don’t properly honor the challenge parents face as they allow their children to journey along their own path.
But if we’re good parents, we let them go. And as we let them go, we let go of our notions of who they were and who we think they should or could be. I have to remember what my mom has always said to me, as a young girl and now as a mother myself: our main job as parents, aside from loving the bujeezus out of our kids, is to allow them to fly for themselves. And letting them fly means they’ll do just that – fly. And we’re kidding ourselves if we think they’ll always fly close to home or fly a predictable path.
Or stay cute and compact forever. Bummer.
Of course, I’ve got a long way to go before my chick flies the coop. But this silly replacement of balabalabaloo with banana signals the slow shift that, in part, defines our relationship with our children. And this is when I remind myself that the Papa and I didn’t choose to have a child to create a static snapshot of family. We’re not raising Stella to essentially grow into us or to grow so that she satisfies us. However uncomfortable this can be, Stella is going to be different than we envision. She’ll make different choices, she’ll feel different feelings and she’ll most certainly react differently to the world than us. So instead of shouting “Will you just stop it already! Stop growing up so darned fast!” – which is exactly what I want to shout at times – I’m trying to sit back and enjoy this evolution that really isn’t mine. And if banana sounds better to her than balabalabaloo, so be it. Banana it is.
Besides, there’s always positives that balance – and undeniably outweigh – the negatives. This morning, Stella turned to me after our morning stories and gently said “Hug?” We hugged and I made contented peace with the fact that bananas are indeed accompanied by heart-busting loads of love.
1 comment:
Oh I know these feelings so well. Have been feeling them so fully, my heart bursting as I watch my girl transitioning into a bigger girl. When she turned one, I cried "she doesn't need me anymore! She's so big" --then my husband said--K--she's not going off to college--she's just turning 1! You are so right about the journey in letting them fly, in letting them be just who they are. What beautiful lessons daily huh.
Thanks for the lovely post.
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