Time is racing by. Today, I looked at my sweet, beautiful, radiant
9-year old daughter and had a momentary freak out. She is nine. NINE.
When I was nine, I definitely began feeling the early surges of
independence. At times I was fully compelled to rebel against
authority, whether it was a teacher, an adult in charge, or my parents.
I was obsessed with horses and the idea of a boyfriend. I was
completely enamored with my friend Suzanna, who breezed in and out of
each day with authority and confidence. I risked punishment to do what I
wanted to do, and did it even when I was commanded to stop.
I wanted my parents to understand me, and to listen to me, and to tell
me that I could go right on ahead and do what I wanted to do. But my
Dad was mostly absent, as he traveled extensively for work, and my Mom
was fundamentally unable to understand my desire and need for more
control of my life. This was the year where she and I began to be at
odds with each other more often than not. It was the year I began to be
grounded. It was the first time I based my decisions about what to do
based on whether or not I would get in trouble. It was the year I began
to be spanked with a wooden spoon because apparently the force needed had somehow grown greater.
When I look at my precious daughter, I am blown away by how big, yet
little she is. I see the age of nine as another year of experience,
another year of growth. But the time it has taken to get to age nine
seems about a fraction of nine whole years. It seems like it’s been
about 2 years, maybe.
So, when I see this great kid growing up and
being NINE, and I think
about where I was emotionally, physically, and relationship-wise when I
was nine, I am completely blown away. She is much more innocent that I
was. Still very much dependent on me for the tiniest of things. Very
much unwilling to spread her wings of independence, and, in fact, not
willing to even consider them. At this moment, I am so thankful that I
can still help her with so many things that I wouldn’t have ever asked
help for at her age. I'm gracious for the opportunity to observe her
growing at her own pace, and without the bulk of the demands and
situations that shaped me by my 9th year.
Kids grow so fast. I knew time flew before I had kids, but it seems
like once they are a part of your life, the calendar hits rocket-speed,
and only continues to go faster. I am hoping I can find ways to span
moments into lifetimes more often, so that all this doesn’t just pass me
by.
I promise to work more on being the kind of perfect parent I want to be,
because my precious, beautiful, amazing, quirky, funny, silly, and
brilliant girls deserve that more than anything else.
Today, I am very much feeling the passing of time, and feeling a little blue about it. And I rarely feel blue...