Sunday, August 21, 2011


I've never been a fan of the word "trends".  To me, "trend" implies something temporary, something short-lived.  Like parachute pants.

On the other hand, if something occurs as part of a "trend" and it's bad, the temporary, short-lived thing can be good.

Case in point...

Last year, on the very first day of kindergarten, my kiddo complained of a tag in her shirt that was making her itch.  Dear old dad cut the tag out, accidentally cutting two holes in the shirt at the same time.  Immediately after, he accidentally hit her in the head with the scissors.  Lots of tears ensued and we made the short drive to school with her holding an ice pack on her head.

Now, one incident is NOT a trend.  But two?  Well, that could be the makings of a trend. 

See, today, the day before the first day of first grade, I was helping my kiddo pick out clothes for the week.  On a whim, I had her try on her pants--even though we just did this less than two weeks ago--and lo and behold, the pants are too small!  But the trend...she was complaining about a tag in a skirt that does fit.  I cut it out.  And cut a hole in the skirt.  Then as she was shimmying out of the too-small pair of pants, she cracked her head on the corner of the foot board on her bed.  Lots of tears ensued and she spent the afternoon holding an ice pack on her head. 

I think that's a trend.  It's only at this time of year that tags seem to be itchier and her head has mishaps.  Perhaps beginning a week before next school year, I will hide all scissors and design a bubble-wrap dress and hat for my kiddo.

Friday, August 12, 2011

Growing Up

My kiddo is growing up so fast. 

First grade starts in a little over a week.

And more than half of her clothes don't fit.

I spent the afternoon going through her dresser drawers and closet, making her try on things I wasn't sure about, folding piles of stuff that won't ever fit again...

It's a daunting task.  Not just because it's time consuming and tedious.

It's daunting because a year ago, I was doing the same thing in preparation for kindergarten.  And I've done it dozens of times over the years, as she's outgrown itty-bitty baby clothes, tiny toddler clothes and so on.  I thought it was hard then.  I'm finding that it's harder now. 

Where has the past year gone?

As I neatly folded the little blue and green shirt she wore on her first day of school last year, I wondered how it is that she has grown and matured so much in twelve short months.  She's my little girl and always will be, no matter her age or time or distance between us. 

But my little girl is a big girl and I can feel the fissure in my heart getting bigger as I move toward having to let her go and let her grow up.  Little by little, day by day, she needs me less. 

As we continued to go through her clothes, she chatted excitedly about riding the school bus, something she didn't do last year, as her dad was home and drove her to school and picked her up daily.  She talked about meeting new friends and having a new teacher and the wonder of starting school all over again.

Then she threw her arms around me and said, "I wish you didn't have to work.  I wish you could just stay home."  I swallowed over the lump in my throat and blinked back tears as I hugged her back, silently wishing the same thing.

When I could talk, I said, "You know, if I could stay home, I'd have so much fun getting you up in the mornings and driving you to school and picking you up."

She let go of me for a second, pressed her forehead to mine and said, "Yeah, except I'd still take the bus.  Because I'm a big girl."

I kissed her nose.  "But I'd like to drive you."

She kissed my nose.  "But not driving me and letting me take the bus is part of letting me grow up, Mommy.  And I have to grow up, even if you don't want me to."

She has to grow up.  Even if I don't want her to.