I struggle...

I think someone flipped a switch when C turned 6 and turned her into a big girl. This is not something I am ready for AT ALL.

There are moments where she is still very much a little girl with sensivities and meltdowns and attitude galore. But they are not as frequent as the big girl who was to spread her wings.

I selfishly want to clip her wings, which I imagine pretty much every parent has felt at one time or another. I don't want her to fly. I want her to stay in my lap forever. But that can't, and won't, happen.

So, we encounter new things. We navigate uncharted territory together and sometimes we don't do it very well. I am trying to let her experience some of the freedoms that come with growing up, but my anxiety level is THROUGH THE ROOF.

I struggle with letting her play outside without watching every second, because I am afraid someone in a dark van will drive up asking her if she wants a puppy or some candy and she will vanish. I attribute that entirely to growing up in a time of Ad*m W*lsh when kids faces became plastered on milk cartons. I am afraid. And my fear makes me look out the window more than I should. C doesn't know, to her she is getting her space but I am still freaking out behind the window panes.

I struggle to let her fail because I know how much failure can hurt and I don't want her to suffer. I also know that sometimes you have to fail (and will fail) in life and she is no exception. I can't wrap her in bubble wrap and shelter her from things because that's not doing her any favors, but I want to. And it weighs heavily on my mind with every new experience.

I struggle to let her be somewhere when I am not there. I attribute this to what seems like a surge in craziness in our society that puts kids in very vulnerable positions I never had to experience. What if something happens and I can't get there fast enough? Those damn What If's make me want to never let her leave the house. But I do.

I struggle with play dates and sleep overs and what she watches on TV and what she eats. The list is lengthy as it rolls through my brain. I go to great lengths to keep that list in check because she is a kid who is growing up and deserves to live her life regardless of how fearful I am.

And seriously, when did I become so fearful? Does that happen immediately at the moment of child birth?

A million times

I have sat down a million times it seems in the last week or so to write...and I write a bit and then stall. It's not for lack of things to say, that's never really been a problem for me, but more of a lack of how to say it.

Simply put, my best friend since I was in high school has Stage 2 Breast Cancer. This isn't my first encounter with this nasty disease, and I am sure it won't be my last. But it feels different.

SP asked me why it was different. Why was this time different than when my own Mom experienced BC? What about this is making it so difficult for me that I am crying or lashing out with anger or distracted and walking around in a daze or trying to be postive and hopeful but deeply saddened by the whole thing?

It's not that I love my friend more than I do my own mother or feel more devastated in this moment than I did years ago when my mom was diagnosed. It's really an apples to oranges situation with Breast Cancer at the rotten core.

Looking back I feel very sheltered from my mom's cancer journey. This was most likely her doing to help buffer us a bit, to protect us, if she could, from any more pain than we were already experiencing. It also could have been because I was so self-absorbed and immature I didn't think to ask to be more involved, but honestly I am not sure I could have at the time and she knew that. I am grateful for that buffer and for her wisdom...mom's tend to know the right things to do even when they are sick.

What I am finding now is there is a closeness, a realness, to this experience. I am not sheltered and I am not choosing to be sheltered. I cannot for one second think about backing away from this experience no matter how difficult it is for me, because it's not about me. I have not spent over half my life cultivating a friendship with J to just run. If I up and retreat when things are their most difficult what kind of friend would I be, what kind of person would I be? That's not what we do...we never have and our lives over the last 20+ years have not always been great but we fought the good fight together. We'll do that again now.

Trying to put it into words right now is really tough. I think I will just let my thoughts simmer for a bit more...

Fancy dress

When she walked through the door of the funeral home, she was glowing. I could see her eyes searching the very large crowd for me. As I moved to get her attention, I noticed that she had dressed herself and I loved it.

There stood my beautiful 6 year old girl in the fanciest, sparkliest, velvetiest dress she owns. The top was black with a little rhinestone heart in the middle. The bottom was pink lace and sequins. She had picked grey tights and a pair of hand-me-down white "high heel" dress shoes that were a size too big. Around her next was a Mardi Gras bead necklace, it was Fat Tuesday afterall.

My girl was a beacon of light in an otherwise sad event. The pride on her face having gotten herself dressed up for the funeral made my heart melt. I had  told her to dress nicely though I didn't specify how nice. She took it to the max.

That's the latest change in my little girl. Her newfound interest in dressy clothes and fancy shoes is a shock to SP and I. She's always been our tennis shoes and casual clothing girl. Now she'll have a purse, and fancy shoes and the whole enchilada just to run to the grocery store. DIVA in training.