The Small Things

Today I stood in my daughter’s room and cried.

My little girl is growing up. Faster than I can get used to the idea. It’s Monday, and she’ll be going to her dad’s tonight for the week. I like having her here at my place and desperately wish she could stay with me all the time. I sometimes just stand in her room and smell the air. It smells like she does – loud music, smiling braces, and rolling eyes. I imagine her at her desk doing her homework to some kind of noise that I can’t possibly discern. Even our cat misses her when she’s away and sleeps on her bed.

I love that she’s turning into an honest, caring, amazing woman. I’m not so happy about having to leave behind the baby that I love so much. What I wouldn’t give to have just an hour with her as a toddler again or to see her as the spunky 6 year old that she was.

Our apartment was broken into a little over two years ago and the person took my video camera with all of the videos of her as a baby and toddler – her first soccer game, her first holiday, her four year old laugh. To this day, my heart aches to think about not being able to see those home movies again and not hearing her sweet little voice.

I have often thought to myself that I would do so much differently. I would be more loving, more attentive, more available. I would be a better mom.

But then I soon realize that this is just my old negativity talking. I know I did the best I could have done. I was and am the best mom I know how to be. I’m noticing that I have these thoughts and sad feelings and am ok with my process of letting go. After all, I am human and I am a mother. I’m going through a normal re-shifting of my definition of myself and my relationship to my kid. The word that comes to me is compassion. Maybe we all could use a little more of that.