growinghumans


5
November 24, 2015, 10:30 am
Filed under: Uncategorized

I was emotional yesterday. I was on the verge of tears most of the day.

Today is my Tiny Human’s 5th birthday.

I spent the day thinking about how precious she was to me. How hard it was to deliver her. How I never thought I would sleep again. How, once the hard part was over, she became my side kick. How much fun I realized having a small version of myself was. We would go places together. We would pick out clothes, food, things for our house. We would go to the park, to the movies, to restaurants. We would charm everyone we met.

I thought about how it felt when she placed her little hand in mine–how at first, it was to  hold her up, to help her walk; there was weight behind her little hand.

And how, now, her hand simply rests in my palm. She laces her fingers through mine and the weight is gone. Her hand is just there because it is where it belongs.

I thought about how her eyes are exactly like mine. Brown, almond shaped, and expressive. Everyone always exclaims how much she looks like me and all I can do is agree and hope they mean it as a compliment.

I thought about all of these things at work yesterday, weeping on the inside because turning 5 feels like a full departure from anything that ever resembled having a baby. I have a young lady now. Today, she is just a kid.

Just a kid.

Kids have opinions. Kids have obstacles. Kids have social politics. Being a kid is more complicated and I am not sure I am ready for this next step, to be honest. I am not sure I am brave enough.

These are all of the things I romanticized about yesterday at work, quietly. Sadly.

But then, I came home from work. I took her out for a pancake dinner because I thought it could be one last thing we do together before she becomes too cool for me. I thought we could sit next to each other in a booth and eat sugar covered pancakes and hold hands.

My Tiny Human, however, did not care about my plans.

She wanted a waffle. She wouldn’t sit still. She kept sticking her tongue out at me even after I told her I would remove it if I saw it leave her mouth again. She talked in baby voice. She looked into other people’s booths. She wasn’t polite.

I was heart broken. I had an idea of how the evening before her birthday would go and she didn’t care.

But isn’t that how it’s always been? Parents always have these plans. Parents always want everything wonderful and enriching and sentimental. But, we want it at certain times. Birthdays, holidays, when we are feeling sad. When we need validation.

Kids, Tiny Humans, will give you all of these experiences. They will sit nicely at a restaurant. They will hold your hand and kiss your cheek and charm the waiter. They will finish their meal and thank you for taking them out.

But they will do it when you aren’t expecting it. They may even do it without you realizing it.

So, dear readers, on this momentous day, I urge you to pay more attention. If you Tiny Human voluntarily grabs your hand as you cross a parking lot, take a breath. Slow down time. Lace your fingers through theirs and remember how small they feel in the spaces between them.

To my own Tiny Human, if you ever read this, my hand will always be here for you. No matter how big you get, your fingers will always feel small wrapped around mine.

Happy Birthday, my sweet and special girl.

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