They Grow Up TOO Fast!

My mom once told me to keep my eyes and heart open and enjoy every single moment of every day. She said that one day you blink and 10 years have passed you by.

She was right.

I finally saw Lily walking toward the parking lot. She looked so small compared to the other kids. I did a quick eyeball check of her person to ensure she was okay. She looked tired, but good. Was she chatting with the girl walking next to her? Mom said – well, I’m not going to lie. At that point I did not hear a word she said. I’m sure it was helpful and important though.

My mom was holding my arm. She was comforting me while simultaneously restraining me. I know she shared my pain and my joy because you see, it was just yesterday that she waited in her car for me. She was holding on to our wiener dog, Cookie, so she would not jump out to hold me.

Lily’s face was filled with a bright smile and she waved! I waved back! I was so happy to be waving with permission! Dang that felt good! Go arms! Lily grabbed the light pole she was passing and attempted a graceful swing around it. She pulled away quickly because the pole was hotter than the hinges of hell and she had burned her hand. It was an excellent effort at being careless. She shook off the pain, laughed at herself and jumped into the truck. That one look at her told me she was happy. She had a good day.

I still saw glimpses of my little baby girl as she talked about her day. Some of her mannerisms and the way she looked at me when she talked. I saw my little girl in there even though the girl I was looking at looked more like a woman.

She made 5 new friends in one day and was very much looking forward to the next day. I followed mom’s advice and did not overwhelm her with questions. I held back and did not grab her and touch her hair just to reassure myself she was with me.

But once we got home, oh my, once we got home, we walked through the door and I held my arms wide open with a smile on my face. You know what? My baby smiled and ran right into them. I know in my heart she always will.

She has a shockingly horrible temper and loud, wondrous laughter. Her eyes scrunch up just so, like little half moons when she smiles. Her eyes are piercingly green with a shock of yellow in the middle that tell you she will always have something up her sleeve.

She is insecure about her appearance. She is incredibly beautiful and has no idea whatsoever. She is tender, honest and scarily intelligent. She is funny and happy enough skipping a shower for three days in the summertime because she simply does not care what people think.

When she likes something, she goes all out. She recently developed an interest in beading. I bought some supplies for her and she closed herself in her room all day working her fingers to the bone. What do you get when you work your fingers to the bone? You know. She came out later with about 30 bracelets sized for teens and adults. She had already posted pictures on Facebook and sold a couple in the interim.

I spent the day yesterday waiting, hoping and praying that she had a great day. I lay down for a while after I dropped her at school. When I was able to get moving again there were three hours until I needed to pick her up.

I chatted with my mom for a while and drank a Diet Pepsi. There were then two hours and fifteen minutes remaining until it was time to pick her up. You get my drift.

I had no clue what to do with myself while she was gone. I had plenty to do, don’t get me wrong, but how could I concentrate when there was so much to think about? Is she cool enough in her classroom? Is she nervous? Is she lonely? Is she scared? Did she eat something healthy at lunch? Has she talked to other kids? Is she finding her classes easily? Is she feeling okay? Is she hydrated? Did she use the restroom on campus? Is she being treated well? You know, those kinds of obsessive parenting type questions.

By the time I stopped asking those questions and worriedly wringing my hands, it was time to go! Hallelujah! My mom drove because I was bouncing around like a puppy headed to its fave dog park and she was not confident that I could concentrate enough on the road with my tongue lolling out of my mouth and my head sticking out of the side window.

We pulled into the parking lot slash pick up area and found ourselves second in the Mom Caravan De Waiting line. Shhhweeet!! We were 20 minutes early but for some reason I kept watching for a glimpse of her on campus. My mom knew it was pointless to try to converse with me, but she made a valiant effort, “So Jen, how you doing over there?” “Gah,” I grunted as I craned my neck to see over the gathering crowd of anxious parents waiting at the gate. “You know you can’t stand with them, right? You need to stay in the truck. She’s not a baby anymore.” “Yuh,” I said.

I thought I saw her across the school grounds and I started to wave my arms frantically to get her attention. “Stop that!” mom exclaimed. “Try to control yourself. You are going to embarrass her.” “Wha grrr,” I boldly stated.

The little kids emerged from the building and started excitedly race-walking toward their parents. They had gleeful smiles on their faces while their moms and dads hugged them, picked them up and swung them around with joy. I could swear it was happening in slow motion.

I remember being one of them. I remember greeting Lily at the school gate, a smile on my face, my arms wide open and thanking God she was with me again. My heart ached for those days that had passed in the blink of an eye. She was just wearing her little cotton, flowered dresses and watching, “The Little Mermaid” over and over and over again. I never tired of it.

My mom once told me to keep my eyes and heart open and enjoy every single moment of every day. She said that one day you blink and 10 years have passed you by.

She was right.

I finally saw Lily walking toward the parking lot. She looked so small compared to the other kids. I did a quick eyeball check of her person to ensure she was okay. She looked tired, but good. Was she chatting with the girl walking next to her? Mom said – well, I’m not going to lie. At that point I did not hear a word she said. I’m sure it was helpful and important though.

My mom was holding my arm. She was comforting me while simultaneously restraining me. I know she shared my pain and my joy because you see, it was just yesterday that she waited in her car for me. She was holding on to our wiener dog, Cookie, so she would not jump out to hold me.

Lily’s face was filled with a bright smile and she waved! I waved back! I was so happy to be waving with permission! Dang that felt good! Go arms! Lily grabbed the light pole she was passing and attempted a graceful swing around it. She pulled away quickly because the pole was hotter than the hinges of hell and she had burned her hand. It was an excellent effort at being careless. She shook off the pain, laughed at herself and jumped into the truck. That one look at her told me she was happy. She had a good day.

I still saw glimpses of my little baby girl as she talked about her day. Some of her mannerisms and the way she looked at me when she talked. I saw my little girl in there even though the girl I was looking at looked more like a woman.

She made 5 new friends in one day and was very much looking forward to the next day. I followed mom’s advice and did not overwhelm her with questions. I held back and did not grab her and touch her hair just to reassure myself she was with me.

But once we got home, oh my, once we got home, we walked through the door and I held my arms wide open with a smile on my face. You know what? My baby smiled and ran right into them. I know in my heart she always will.

I spent the day yesterday waiting, hoping and praying that she had a great day. I lay down for a while after I dropped her at school. When I was able to get moving again there were three hours until I needed to pick her up.

I chatted with my mom for a while and drank a Diet Pepsi. There were then two hours and fifteen minutes remaining until it was time to pick her up. You get my drift.

I had no clue what to do with myself while she was gone. I had plenty to do, don’t get me wrong, but how could I concentrate when there was so much to think about? Is she cool enough in her classroom? Is she nervous? Is she lonely? Is she scared? Did she eat something healthy at lunch? Has she talked to other kids? Is she finding her classes easily? Is she feeling okay? Is she hydrated? Did she use the restroom on campus? Is she being treated well? You know, those kinds of obsessive parenting type questions.

By the time I stopped asking those questions and worriedly wringing my hands, it was time to go! Hallelujah! My mom drove because I was bouncing around like a puppy headed to its fave dog park and she was not confident that I could concentrate enough on the road with my tongue lolling out of my mouth and my head sticking out of the side window.

We pulled into the parking lot slash pick up area and found ourselves second in the Mom Caravan De Waiting line. Shhhweeet!! We were 20 minutes early but for some reason I kept watching for a glimpse of her on campus. My mom knew it was pointless to try to converse with me, but she made a valiant effort, “So Jen, how you doing over there?” “Gah,” I grunted as I craned my neck to see over the gathering crowd of anxious parents waiting at the gate. “You know you can’t stand with them, right? You need to stay in the truck. She’s not a baby anymore.” “Yuh,” I said.

I thought I saw her across the school grounds and I started to wave my arms frantically to get her attention. “Stop that!” mom exclaimed. “Try to control yourself. You are going to embarrass her.” “Wha grrr,” I boldly stated.

The little kids emerged from the building and started excitedly race-walking toward their parents. They had gleeful smiles on their faces while their moms and dads hugged them, picked them up and swung them around with joy. I could swear it was happening in slow motion.

I remember being one of them. I remember greeting Lily at the school gate, a smile on my face, my arms wide open and thanking God she was with me again. My heart ached for those days that had passed in the blink of an eye. She was just wearing her little cotton, flowered dresses and watching, “The Little Mermaid” over and over and over again. I never tired of it.

She has a shockingly horrible temper and loud, wondrous laughter. Her eyes scrunch up just so, like little half moons when she smiles. Her eyes are piercingly green with a shock of yellow in the middle that tell you she will always have something up her sleeve.

She is insecure about her appearance. She is incredibly beautiful and has no idea whatsoever. She is tender, honest and scarily intelligent. She is funny and happy enough skipping a shower for three days in the summertime because she simply does not care what people think.

When she likes something, she goes all out. She recently developed an interest in beading. I bought some supplies for her and she closed herself in her room all day working her fingers to the bone. What do you get when you work your fingers to the bone? You know. She came out later with about 30 bracelets sized for teens and adults. She had already posted pictures on Facebook and sold a couple in the interim.

I dropped my daughter off for her first day back at school yesterday. Lily is 12 years old and just starting 8th grade. She started school a year early. At 4 years old she was ready to blow the popsicle stand that was our home and meet new and interesting people in kindergarten.

Once again, she was so excited by the prospect of meeting new friends in 8th grade. She didn’t care that it was a new school. She didn’t care that she didn’t know anyone. She grabbed her backpack, kissed my cheek, told me she loved me and was quick stepping her way to class without looking back.

My baby, my little girl with her bright eyes and wickedly adorable smile, my girl with Epilepsy, separated parents and a chronically ill mom – my girl who cries at television advertisements and unabashedly loves her kitty – she started 8th grade yesterday with no fear and an amazing excitement.