Saturday, September 2, 2017

Be Tru

It dawned on me this morning, it being the actual morning, as evening dawns rather infrequently, and I realized that my second child is getting older. She is approaching one of those arbitrary markers of "adulthood" and I need to sit down because I feel old. My "baby" will be 18 very soon. I only have the two kids so when she passes into the realm of "grown up" I will be without a little kid around. I know that she has been moving in this direction for a number of years, but this year, her senior year in high school, really presents me with a lot of "last times." A year from now, she will be gearing up for another stage -- be it a gap year program or college or a job or I have no idea what, but it won't be any more high school unless she absolutely fails out this year and I'd like to think that that isn't going to happen. I don't want to wake up in next September and start feeling all empty and what-not, bemoaning the cliche "you don't appreciate what you have until it is gone". I want to work on appreciating everything now.

To that end, I want to list some things that I am going to try and be aware of in this upcoming year -- some are annoying, some not, but I want to have a list so I can take nothing for granted. For example, this is the last year that I expect to have to wake up a child every morning so instead of sighing and getting frustrating, I will try to enjoy these last times. After this year, I won't have the morning and afternoon car rides, or the odd moments at school when I get to hear about her day as it happens. The walks to shul on Shabbos morning, and the games of cards on Shabbos afternoon. Once she leaves the nest, I won't be able to criticize the TV shows she watches or the stuff that passes for "music" that she sings in the shower. She loves bath bombs but when she moves out, there won't be anyone pushing various hand-made combinations under my nose and wanting to chat with me about the different aromas. Our frequent discussions about what color she might treat her hair will be gone. The innocent questions about current events which gave me an opportunity to explain and guide but not dictate beliefs will be a thing of the past. I will not have the reins, controlling her movements and I will have to trust her to make the right decisions -- I'm confident she can and I pray that she will.

So in the upcoming year, when I remind her to clean her bathroom, do her homework or get some sleep, when I get frustrated picking up the clothes she leaves lying around, or get annoyed that I have to cajole her to walk the dog, I have to take a deep breath and take stock. She's a wonderful and miraculous child and I have her under my roof for a finite (and ever diminishing) number of days. She gives more than she takes and I am going to miss her terribly, even while I know that she is out there doing something wonderful. So, yeah, it will be irritating to have to tell her, again, to turn the light off when she leaves the room, and it won't always be riveting to hear the girl-drama that is high school life, but my resolution is to try and seize every moment and savor it for what it is: a chance to connect with a very special someone who will soon be spreading her own wings and discovering the world on her own terms, without her dad watching over her shoulder.

Welcome to senior year, Trolley. I hope it is fulfilling, fantastic, frustrating and frantic and that it helps set you up for whatever you decide is the next chapter of your life. Now walk the dog, please.

1 comment:

Feel free to comment and understand that no matter what you type, I still think you are a robot.