Growing Pains

Jael,

“Growing up” is a loiterer.

I’ve told you this, but I don’t expect you to know what I mean. You’re seven years old as of not even a week ago, and when I first heard these words from my own mother, I was almost triple your age. I might’ve thought that I understood what she was saying back then, but I didn’t. Not really.

I didn’t understand her until right now, admiring you, my daughter, the most beautiful blessing that I’ve ever received, and that came after moving half-way across the country, standing on my own two feet, paying rent, surviving the struggle-filled nights I craved for the living room couch back at my parent’s house, finding love, planning a wedding, giving birth to you, starting a family, watching you grow up, and so on and so forth.

Growing up sticks to you regardless of what you do. You might not notice it at first, and I think you’re at a stage in your life where that’s still the case, but once you do notice it, you can’t un-notice it. Overtime, you’ll be required to see the world without the naivety-goggles we are only given once in our lives, and you’ll have to take the angels and the demons for what they are. Every haunted and every flowering playing card will be laid out across the table and you’re going to have to figure out how to sort out each individual in the deck, but don’t worry! It’s not as scary as it seems. It’s not because at the end, every bit comes together and it turns out okay. More than okay, actually.

I, your own mother, is living proof.

I was a child just like you, growing up in your grandparents house, hating school on some days more than others, but loving days that we got snowed out, when we could stay in drinking hot chocolate and have a movie marathon, eating every meal on the sofa. I had an unnecessarily passionate competitive spirit toward board games with my brothers, and I had posters of the major crushes I had for the nerdy-geeky types in Hollywood movies. I was called downstairs when dinner was ready, exactly how I call you down now, and I’d be reminded to buckle in from the eyes of the driver reflected in the rear-view mirror like I do you. Freaking out about pimples, nerves during a school play, and arguments with my friends when we didn’t see eye to eye, I was constantly a mess in some way or another.

And that didn’t change, but there’s nothing wrong about that.

I still am a mess that I can’t quite figure out most of the time, but there’s more to it than there used to be. I clean up marinara sauce dripping down the sides of my pots and splurging across my stove top. I buy my own suds to tidy up the dishes and tuck them away into the dishwasher, and hide away things in my kitchen so it doesn’t come off so scattered. There’s laundry in the dryer as I write this, and I already know that I’m going to end up procrastinating folding them up and putting them away, so it’ll sit on my office chair until at least tomorrow. The groceries in the fridge and pantry are paid out of my paycheck. I call to arrange your doctor’s appointments, and tie both your shoes and mine.

Most days, I can’t survive without a cup of coffee when I hated the taste of it before. I check my email when I first wake up, when I used to check Instagram, and I pushed you gently in a swing set at the park rather than ask for someone to push me. For me, that was a whole fever dream ago.

Independence changes your whole world. It’s an insane difference that comes with time, and yet we ride the wave without thinking too much about it, but it’s amazing. It’s amazing because even though I'm very much not perfect, you always say that I am. You look up at me with astonishment, and you give me the warmest hugs, better than anyone I’ve met and will meet in my lifetime.

You love me, and I love you. I’ve gotten more than I could imagine, but you could have even more than that. You start now, and everything is ahead of you.

So when the day comes that you discover this piece of paper, I beg that you take my advice and I pray that you’ll be able to understand it. Live in the present, my baby girl. Don’t get bored with your childhood or your teenage years, and romanticize when the wisdom of your adulting days comes in. There is absolutely no need to rush to grow up. Every piece of it will be there waiting for you at the moment you’re supposed to be there to grab onto it. If you do rush, one day, all you’ll long for is to be a kid again. Little by little, you’ll turn yourself into the finest young woman in the world, but enjoy the ride along the way.

Make memories. Live in the present. Don’t grow up too fast.

-Mom