Hmm, I'm going to try this....http://nablopomo.ning.com
The first entry is one I actually wrote at the beginning of September but wasn't able to post until now.
9/8/07
63%. Okay, 63% of 18 years, roughly, the portion of time Erin will spend growing up, being a kid at home.
She began Junior High school this year and I was okay with it up until Open House night. Now, if you don't know what Open House is, let me tell you that it can be an evening fraught with anxiety for a parent, especially if their child is starting a new phase of their education. Which Erin did, and it must be known that her mother was a bundle of nerves. But, I get ahead of myself.
This entire last summer I watched, with a glow of joy and pride, a young girl beginning her change from being an awkward kid to a budding young lady, coming into her own with all the changes and accomodations inherent in all pubescent girls. She is becoming a woman.
So, I was okay with that, accepting the inevitable and marveling at the growth my firstborn has been experiencing. She has seemed so much more mature (not to mention taller and more curvy) over this summer.
That is, until Open House.
We met Erin's homeroom teacher, we toured her classroom and the Jr. High rooms. All was well and good until The Lockers.
The hallways in the Junior High portion of our school's building are lined with lockers, with each locker being assigned to a 6th, 7th or 8th grade student. As we were introduced to this area other students and their parents were milling about, looking for their child's locker, putting things away and making sure Tim or Suzanne could open their lockers.
Tim and Suzanne were HUGE compared my tiny little girl who, at this point, was learning the basics of Combination Lock 101 with her dad. The other girls looked like the kids I went to school with when I was in Junior High at the very same school. Erin looked like (compared to them), well, my baby.
Thud.
I can't even speak of the first day of school except to say that Erin did much better than I did, of course. She still reassures me that everything is going okay - she has friends, she's acclimating well and staying on top. Small comfort for her mother who sees so much of herself in the little tiny blonde-haired girl who just a few short years ago began her school adventure. I was teary during Opening Day Chapel, she followed her classmates as they filed out of church back to their classroom like she'd been doing it for a hundred years.
The lesson here? Mother needs to get a grip. Erin is 63% of her life closer to college and then it is all up to her. And you know, I think it will really be okay. I just need to spend that last 37% telling my heart that it will be fine, that what we have taught Erin and instilled in her will serve in good stead in her parents' absence.
Any port in a storm, man, any port in a storm.
The first entry is one I actually wrote at the beginning of September but wasn't able to post until now.
9/8/07
63%. Okay, 63% of 18 years, roughly, the portion of time Erin will spend growing up, being a kid at home.
She began Junior High school this year and I was okay with it up until Open House night. Now, if you don't know what Open House is, let me tell you that it can be an evening fraught with anxiety for a parent, especially if their child is starting a new phase of their education. Which Erin did, and it must be known that her mother was a bundle of nerves. But, I get ahead of myself.
This entire last summer I watched, with a glow of joy and pride, a young girl beginning her change from being an awkward kid to a budding young lady, coming into her own with all the changes and accomodations inherent in all pubescent girls. She is becoming a woman.
So, I was okay with that, accepting the inevitable and marveling at the growth my firstborn has been experiencing. She has seemed so much more mature (not to mention taller and more curvy) over this summer.
That is, until Open House.
We met Erin's homeroom teacher, we toured her classroom and the Jr. High rooms. All was well and good until The Lockers.
The hallways in the Junior High portion of our school's building are lined with lockers, with each locker being assigned to a 6th, 7th or 8th grade student. As we were introduced to this area other students and their parents were milling about, looking for their child's locker, putting things away and making sure Tim or Suzanne could open their lockers.
Tim and Suzanne were HUGE compared my tiny little girl who, at this point, was learning the basics of Combination Lock 101 with her dad. The other girls looked like the kids I went to school with when I was in Junior High at the very same school. Erin looked like (compared to them), well, my baby.
Thud.
I can't even speak of the first day of school except to say that Erin did much better than I did, of course. She still reassures me that everything is going okay - she has friends, she's acclimating well and staying on top. Small comfort for her mother who sees so much of herself in the little tiny blonde-haired girl who just a few short years ago began her school adventure. I was teary during Opening Day Chapel, she followed her classmates as they filed out of church back to their classroom like she'd been doing it for a hundred years.
The lesson here? Mother needs to get a grip. Erin is 63% of her life closer to college and then it is all up to her. And you know, I think it will really be okay. I just need to spend that last 37% telling my heart that it will be fine, that what we have taught Erin and instilled in her will serve in good stead in her parents' absence.
Any port in a storm, man, any port in a storm.
Comments
Good post!