Carissa is going to be a senior in high school this year. This summer she had senior pictures taken. We had to purchase a car for her because we are requiring that she do Dual Enrollment at Valencia and then realized she needed a way to get there. See, this is funny because we want to save money on college, yet buying a car clearly defeats that purpose, right? Have you seen that commercial where the father hands the keys to his daughter, a 5 year old in the driver's seat? That's what it feels like right now with Carissa. I know that's not surprising.
Everything seems to be going so fast. I know that's not surprising either. It's rather cliche, I guess
When someone first becomes a parent, everyone who has older kids tells the new parents "Don't blink! They'll grow up before you know it!" The new parents smile politely, promise to take pictures and videos and just wallow in the joy that is the new bundle. Then time starts to pass. The parents blink. The baby starts Kindergarten. The parents blink again. The baby is in middle school. Blink. The baby is graduating from high school, has had a boyfriend or two, and is asserting her independence.
That's where I am now. Why did I blink? We have only one child by choice. We allowed her to skip a grade, knowing back then that we'd be giving up a year with her. Now it's time to cash in on that given-up year as she is sending off college applications and somewhat trepidatiously looking forward to starting the rest of her life.
I'm stuck between wanting her to grow up and start her life and wanting her to stay home and be my baby a little longer. I know it's no different than the feelings of any other mother who is seeing the end of her child's time at home. I remember the sleepless first two weeks of her life, every birthday party, the toothless grins and the curly hair, and times when how she looked didn't matter to her. She was just happy to be Carissa.
She still is happy to be Carissa most days, but how she looks (and often how I look) does matter. She's learned how to be more assertive since she started high school and doesn't let people walk all over her most of the time. She has learned how to communicate with her teachers by herself and has been solely responsible for her grades since 10th grade - and they are almost always better than good. She is responsible, has great friends, and makes good choices for herself. She is a rule follower, but also knows how to have fun. She loves to laugh. She's a good girl.
As much as I'd love to lock her in the house and keep her all to myself, she's ready to face the world and learn to be an adult. She's ready . . . but I don't think I am. Are parents ever ready? I don't think so.
So I'm kind of dreading this next school year. She has already started naming "lasts." This was the last band camp. This will be the last first day of school. This will be the last season she's a cheerleader. I'm sure there will be a lot more of those to come. I am sure these events and declarations of "lasts" are just setting me up for a mental breakdown 10-12 months from now.
Then I got a little touch of perspective. Some very dear friends just dropped their daughter off at college about a week ago. I listened to my friend, the mom, tell about how they spent their last night with their daughter living at home. I teared up with her as she was telling the story. She felt like she needed to tell her daughter everything before she left to be on her own. This situation is a little different than mine as this family will be on the other side of the world from their daughter (UGa and Japan). But won't Tampa feel just as far when Carissa is there and I'm here?
So as we were talking about all of the "lasts" Carissa has been mentioning, our friends gave us some good advice: cherish this last year. Try to find joy in all of these events this last year because this time next year, we'll be wishing we still had it to do over one more time. So I did approach going to the last parent night at band camp with a little different attitude. And when I take her to the last first day of school, I'll try to find some happiness in it. I haven't decided what that will be yet, but I'll think on it.
As I drove home with her tonight from the store, after having annoyed her for reacting to her driving mistakes, I tried to apply this new perspective (it was difficult). I decided to be happy that at least she wanted to spend time with me for a little while tonight.
I'm afraid to blink again because I know the next time she will have moved out and will be a college student. I'm trying to slow down my blinking to make this year last as long as possible.
In the meantime, if you are the parent of a little one, please forgive me if I tell you not to blink.
