Parenting provides you with a weird time twist that flings you into the future without warning. Welcome to the teenage years. You were never ready.
Two weeks ago, my kid took her first steps. Oh, right, that wasn’t two weeks ago – it was more than 10 years ago. I don’t think I have quite caught up. Suddenly, despite my best attempts, she’s grown taller than me and is testing every boundary we’ve ever set down. Even – and especially – the ones she didn’t know existed until now.
Parenting rattles you. We spend the first few years desperately trying to provide the most nurturing foundation for life. Then, seemingly overnight, we’re flung into the world of the tweens, and almost everything we were supposed to hold on to, we must let go of.
It’s changed me, and I’m not sure if I’m okay with that yet. I’ve become way too liberal with spouting un-parenting advice to my un-parent friends. It goes something like this:
Them: We’re thinking about having a baby! Isn’t that exciting?
Me: Do not do it! The first few years are amazing. Everything sucks thereafter. Run away. Travel. Roll around in your money on your bed. Do anything else but become a parent, because your heart will not cope with this part.
While that’s not exactly great news for extending the legacy of generations, and I could go into the science of us having to deal with an overpopulated planet, it comes down to this. I am hurting on so many levels right now, and this is when I need to be the most consistent parent I have ever been.
I feel like it’s my duty to save my friends from this hurt. Meanwhile, I just want to go hide in a library and wait for it to all blow over. But that’s neither useful nor responsible. Instead, I’m facing up to the moments where I must let go.
Last week, I let her roam a local shopping mall on her own, while I picked up some groceries. I only panic-texted her twice, to check she was still alive. I felt the urge to panic-text her at least 42 times, so I’m quite proud of myself.
This week, we had a blowout fight over the way she thinks I don’t offer her enough freedom. It was so weird to see myself, reflected at me. I’d had these exact conversations with my own mother, and now, I’m on the other end of the pendulum.
Last month, I was furiously filling in high school application forms, while choking back tears. This month, I’m trying to learn more about the cool Instagram celebrity ‘everyone’ is talking about. I have no idea what his actual mission is, but I am quite determined to like him, or even try to understand him.
Last year, I was teaching her how to search YouTube. This year, she’s telling me all about the coolest YouTubers and showing me channels she thinks I would like. (Sailor J, I am grateful to you, because you are one of the YouTube discoveries we have bonded over. Thank you.)
I used to be so cocksure, so comfortable, such a great parent. I was a magnificent leader of a toddler and now, I am being led towards my daughter’s adulthood, by her.
I’m right behind you, baby. I promise I’ll catch up.
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