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My daughter Nat turns 3 in less than a week, and today, she started preschool. I thought I'd be happy- she spends most of the time at home screaming, and our ears were looking forward to a rest- but I found myself going through my day in a somber mood. Instead of my typical fun or epic tunes*, a line from a song from my childhood (Jodi Benson, Here in My Heart, 1991) ran through my head all day:
every step that you take, will be farther away,
Some times, I confess, I look forward to her growing up. I grow tired of her reliance of us for everything. "Get a job," I frequently tell her, "and stop being a leech." I want her to be independent, both for her sake, and for mine, so she stops bothering me to do seemingly trivial things**. But with that independence comes something I don't want to part with- her nearness, and (the illusion of) control. Right now, Beth and I are Nat's world. We control what she does, with whom she plays, etc. What she learns, she learns from us, and she's around us all the time, which can be fun. Starting today, there will be several hours a week where we don't know what she's doing, and we can't control it. She'll learn things we don't teach her. She'll probably learn things she shouldn't. She'll pick up good habits, and bad ones, all from people other than us. She'll get teased and picked on, because that's what kids do, and we won't be there to stop it. We'll be there increasingly less often, because she's getting farther away. This bothers me. It's scary.
We like to think we can control our lives, and those of our children. We don't, and can't. And I hate thinking about that. But, it's truth, and truth sets us free***.
Another tough pill to swallow comes in the very next line of the song:
but to stop you is not what I choose
Some parents choose to keep their kids close- too close. They try to protect them from the world- to control them and what they experience. But it's not right- I can't do that. I must let her go. I have to pray for her to succeed and thrive, knowing that, in so doing, the gulf between us will only widen. What's good for her will be bad for me. That's what love is, sometimes- doing the best for another, though it hurts you to do so.
"I can do it myself!" I hear this so often from Natalie. And, as I write this, I think of how often I long for the future- when she will be self-sufficient and really can do it herself, to include entertaining herself for more than five minutes without destroying something of value in the house. Maybe I should be content with where she is now. Maybe I should stop yearning for the future. Remember, John Mark, remember- every step that she takes will be farther away. Is it annoying to help her with everything? Yes, but some day, I'll want to, and she'll look at me and say "thanks, Dad, I got this." Or, more likely, she'll say "get lost," and I'll reply "don't you talk to me like that," and then we'll have a big fight, and she'll stomp up to her room, and I'll follow, and when she slams the door in my face I'll take it off the hinges, and she'll freak, and so on and so forth. My eyes were misting; they're not now, for some reason.
<we interrupt this digression in a probably-futile attempt to return to topic- the editors>
Nat, I pray you grow up strong in many areas, and I'll do my best to not hold you back, but equip you for this world. And, know that, no matter what, once you're out on your own, you're welcome back home only on major holidays. Seriously; any other time, and we'll have big problems.
*like Rasputin by Boney M or The Lord of the Rings soundtrack
**like exchange her orange spoon for a red one at dinner that one time. Because clearly that was extremely important.
***unless the truth involves revealing our role in a large-scale money laundering operation. Then the truth might get us arrested. But the saying is generally valid.
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