My firstborn is off to secondary school. It doesn’t seem that long ago since I was gazing at her in awe in the delivery room. When did that little baby become a big girl?!
She’s growing up fast, and I’m not sure I’m ready for it yet.
Gone are the days when I was the centre of her world. Where she would cry for me, and only I would do when she wanted comfort.
The days are slowly slipping by, whereby she will skip happily beside me on the way to school, chattering incessantly about her favourite animals, friends, the world as she sees it through her eyes. These days I’m lucky if she engage in a conversation that doesn’t centre around her wants, or engage in physical contact via a hug or hand holding.
Yet despite all this, I’m proud of how she is growing up to be a fiercely independent young person who knows her own mind, and won’t be sway by others if she doesn’t think it would be the right course of action to take.
I love it when she does want to spend time with me, just the two of us. Those times are definetly more preferable to the “stompy stroppy” days, where she rolls her eyes at me, huffs and disagrees with everything, or tells me that I am “embarrassing” because of something I did, wore or said.
My daughter is no longer dependent solely on me, and is increasely becoming more and more independent. But would I have it any other way? Honestly, no because it shows that I’m succeeding at this parenting lark. Like a baby bird, she has to learn to fly independently. She would resent me so much more if I clipped her wings. So as much as I find it hard to let her go, I know that for her to succeed in life I have to let her do this.