Growing Pains

Are they happy? Do they know they are important? Special? Worthwhile? Loved? Do they know that they will always have a place to come home to? Do they know I'll do anything for them?

I have four little reasons for a thousand questions like this.

Raising kids: what a roller coaster ride.

I wish I could be there to protect them all day, everyday. When I drop them off at school, after we do our ritual of I Love You's and Have a Good Day's and See You After School's, they shut the door and walk past the passenger window and wave. Then we give each other the sign for I Love You in sign language, and then they walk in. I sit there in my car and watch them make their way up the incline to the front doors, like if I don't take my eyes off of them nothing can hurt them---they won't trip, they won't be kidnapped, they won't be teased, they'll just float into the school with the protective eyes of their mom keeping them safe. Sounds silly doesn't it? I watch them walk home too.

I wish it were that simple. They are growing up so fast.

Next year we venture into the unfamiliar territory of middle school. I am scared out of my mind for this. My little baby girl doesn't seem old enough to be with those....teenagers! She'll always be the girl who in Kindergarten would break out into random song and dance during quiet time. Much to my relief, however, they do keep the sixth graders pretty separate from the rest of the school. But lockers and combination's, vending machines and ten minutes between classes makes me break out into a cold sweat. I know she can handle it, I know I'm not giving her enough credit here--that she really is capable of doing this! I do!

Maybe the thing is, am I capable of letting her go?

I won't be able to surprise her at lunch, or help out with class parties, or bring treats on her birthday. She'll hate it if I give her the 'I love you' sign as she's walking into the school---and I know I'll embarrass her constantly around her friends.


I hope with everything I have, that she'll remember that she's important and worthwhile and loved. That all the things I've written on her 'blackboard' over the years (a James D. MacArthur theory) will be positive and she'll be able to wear it proudly and with confidence.

Being a mom is the most rewarding yet heartbreaking thing I've experienced----and I wouldn't trade it for the world!