I’m stepping out of my blogging niche right now to go all mummy blogger on you. Feel free to click away now to one of my other posts you may have missed like this one on why I’m okay with fairy tales, or the one where I ask the question are you ever lost for words? or perhaps you’d like to offer your opinion on this question I asked a couple of weeks ago.
Otherwise, feel free to hang around and listen to me sound like a mum, just like my parents did.*cringes*
So a bit of background, I’m a mum to four girls. Two step-daughters aged 17 and 15, and two daughters aged 9 1/2 and almost 7. The older girls have been part of my life since they were 5 and 3, and we are lucky enough to have a fantastic relationship.
Now this is where I turn all ‘mum‘ on you. Where I think back to all the stuff I was doing when I was in year 11.
There’s actually a few similiarities.
Miss 17 is lead in the school production this year (Sandy in Grease) as I was lead in year 11, many moons ago (Dorothy in The Wiz). Year 11 is the year I made my debut or deb (which sounds a lot more fancier, formal and old fashioned than it really was), and Miss 17 will do the same in just a matter of weeks.
This is where I’m hoping the similiarities end.
It’s not that I was rebellious at that age, but there were a few things that I was up to that I’m sure my Dad wouldn’t have been happy about.
So now I sit here wondering. Thinking. Sounding like a mum.
‘I need to know what after party you’ll be going to’
‘And where it is!’
‘Will the parents be there?’
‘No, you won’t get a lift home with (insert name), Dad will pick you up.’
‘Yes, even if it’s midnight!’
And each time she steps out the door my heart does a little flutter.
A flutter of pride, because between the four of us, we’ve raised a wonderful, respectful, smart young woman. But also a little flutter because I need to let go. To trust that she won’t do anything silly. Or anything I did. Or didn’t do. Or maybe did.
Really, you think parenting is tough when they are babies and they wake every few hours. And then when they are finding their independence as terrible toddlers. Or when the attitude begins around age 7 or 8. But although it does get easier in most ways, in some ways, it is the hardest it’s ever been.
Letting your child out into the big wide world to make their own mistakes. To make their own memories. To begin their own lives, is hard.
I can only take solace in the fact that I turned out okay (well mostly). And that our daughters are smart and have been raised to know right from wrong. To be respectful of others and themselves.
I need to remind myself of those facts.
And remember not to cringe when I hear myself sounding like a parent!
“Back in my day…”
Do you cringe when you sound like your parents?