Last night, we attended incoming freshman orientation proceeding for my "little girl" who is entering her first year of high school. I say "little girl" because she's my baby and will always be my baby. Yet, the reality is, she's not a baby anymore, no matter how much I wish she was. She's as nearly as tall as me now. She's every bit as intelligent and probably more so. She's witty and clever and thoughtful. She in tune and in touch. She's worldly in ways I couldn't have conceived of being at that age. The world she lives in demands kids her age be. In short, she's grown up. She's not the five-year-old kid who I told stories to at bedtime each night. She's not the little girl who stuck it to the boys by being just as good and better than them on the flag football field. She's not the little kid who learned to ride her bike with the help of her big sister holding her up and chasing after her down the sidewalk. She's the big sister now doing the teaching.
In so many ways, I dread the first day of school. It means my kids are another year closer to being gone, out of the house, and on their own. In so many ways, I look forward to the first day of school because it means they are one year closer to becoming the adults I envisioned them as being as they were growing up.
Every year, as another new school year starts, I still get the same nervous feeling in my stomach that I did when I was in school. Those little butterflies start flapping their wings furiously inside my stomach. The waves of anxiousness start tossing and turning with no ending in sight. The possibilities of the great unknown start to play out over and over in my head. The freedom of summer draws closer to an end, bringing with them responsibility. Those few years when one of my kids had to start a school year at a new school where they didn't know anyone only made was is already difficult even more so. This is one of those years.
For as many mixed feelings as I'm feeling about my "little girl" who is starting high school, I'm feeling just as many mixed emotions over my other "little girl" who is starting her last year of school. By December, she will have graduated and will be making her way into the "real world." I'm beyond proud, beyond excited, and beyond scared. What will the real world that I know all so well hold for her? How well will the real world I deal with every day regard her? How will it treat her? Have I fully prepared her? Have I done all that I can? My feeling is that no parent can honestly say that they have done everything possible.There's too much that the "real world" does on a daily basis to interfere and keep that from happening. The "real world" is too demanding and manipulative to allow a parent be the type of parent he or she would like to be at all times. It just isn't possible. But I hope I've done enough given the constraints I was working within.
All these emotions and feelings are only compounded by the fact that I'm not nearly done with all this. By this time next year, my baby baby, all four years old of her, will be starting her first year of school. Sweet Lord, am I prepared for 12 more years of the public school system? Am I ready at this age to tackle more choir performances and field trips and conferences and all the ups and downs that are sure to come? The answer is that I don't have a choice but to be. I must be ready. At least I've been well broken. At least I have many, many years of experience under my belt.
In so many ways, I dread the first day of school. It means my kids are another year closer to being gone, out of the house, and on their own. In so many ways, I look forward to the first day of school because it means they are one year closer to becoming the adults I envisioned them as being as they were growing up.
Every year, as another new school year starts, I still get the same nervous feeling in my stomach that I did when I was in school. Those little butterflies start flapping their wings furiously inside my stomach. The waves of anxiousness start tossing and turning with no ending in sight. The possibilities of the great unknown start to play out over and over in my head. The freedom of summer draws closer to an end, bringing with them responsibility. Those few years when one of my kids had to start a school year at a new school where they didn't know anyone only made was is already difficult even more so. This is one of those years.
For as many mixed feelings as I'm feeling about my "little girl" who is starting high school, I'm feeling just as many mixed emotions over my other "little girl" who is starting her last year of school. By December, she will have graduated and will be making her way into the "real world." I'm beyond proud, beyond excited, and beyond scared. What will the real world that I know all so well hold for her? How well will the real world I deal with every day regard her? How will it treat her? Have I fully prepared her? Have I done all that I can? My feeling is that no parent can honestly say that they have done everything possible.There's too much that the "real world" does on a daily basis to interfere and keep that from happening. The "real world" is too demanding and manipulative to allow a parent be the type of parent he or she would like to be at all times. It just isn't possible. But I hope I've done enough given the constraints I was working within.
All these emotions and feelings are only compounded by the fact that I'm not nearly done with all this. By this time next year, my baby baby, all four years old of her, will be starting her first year of school. Sweet Lord, am I prepared for 12 more years of the public school system? Am I ready at this age to tackle more choir performances and field trips and conferences and all the ups and downs that are sure to come? The answer is that I don't have a choice but to be. I must be ready. At least I've been well broken. At least I have many, many years of experience under my belt.
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