Sometimes I Forget

Sometimes I forget that my girls are more grown-up kids than they are little kids. This transition into maturing and growing up still feels new to me and I'm not sure I get how to do it. I tend to perceive things the wrong way a lot.

As in...

Sometimes I think they need me to make decisions for them, when really they just want me to support and love them as they choose for themselves.

Sometimes I figure their problems can't possibly get fixed without my help, when the better thing for me to do is to be their cushion when they're in a hard place.

Sometimes I insist they can't do something because they don't have experience, when really they want me to stand back and give them room to experience new things.

Sometimes I'm sure nothing will get accomplished without my helpful reminders, but it's actually pretty interesting (and often surprising) to see what happens when they are given opportunities to be independent.

Sometimes I'm convinced they just can't do a thing without me, and then they go do lots of stuff without my help, without my input, and without my direction.

Like I said, sometimes I just forget that they're growing up. But when I open my eyes and see them in a more grown-up light, most of the time I love what I see.

I see a ten-year-old girl who sets her alarm each night, showers before school each morning, and then comes upstairs to get her own breakfast.

I see an eight-year-old girl who sets her alarm each night, helps her three-year-old sister get some strawberries and whipped cream out of the fridge, and then skates around the kitchen a few times before putting the finishing touches on her morning.

I see a ten-year-old girl who has learned to tolerate and manage a school situation that is less than ideal this year, and with each setback she bounces back faster and better than I've ever seen her do before.

I see an eight-year-old girl with a light in her eye for some adventure, who wants to stretch herself, discover more talents, and get better at the things she loves.

I see a ten-year-old big sister mothering-ly scoop her three-year-old sister into her arms to ask her questions, make sure she's okay, and give her some loves...just because she wants to.

I see an eight-year-old girl handle full responsibility for her homework, room cleanliness and piano practice each day...just for the fun of it.

In so many ways, I couldn't be more pleased with what I'm seeing in my girls and I love being witness to some amazing personality traits that are showing themselves more clearly. I want to keep remembering that while we live everyday life side by side, under the same roof, sharing the same space, that these girls are learning more about themselves and I'm just here to help them along the best I can.

But just as soon as I settle into my new groove and find myself actually being okay with and liking this new phase, they go ahead and giggle hysterically at some bathroom humor, insultingly smear whipped cream in each other's hair, then heatedly spar back and forth about the correct pronunciation of the word "Converse". (For anyone interested, Brita says it's con-verS, Leah says it's con-verZ).

And then I forget again.