Ever have one of those proud Mommy moments that just filled your heart and escaped through your eyes? I had that today.
Little Miss 14 is mature beyond her years. She is a good student. She studies when she has to, but maintains mostly As on sheer smarts. She tests well, considers herself a budding fantasy author, is extraordinary at Math, and has a boat load of common sense. As a mother, I like to dwell on her positive attributes. I’m not oblivious that she has some negative ones as well, we all do, but this child was my first biological, and holds a certain special place in my heart – biased or not.
Due to her diligence in school, she has been on an accelerated track for the last few years. Among her middle school accomplishments are advanced content in all her academic courses, including some for which she has earned high school credits before she even arrives.
My brag this time is her step into a new arena. She is finishing eighth grade this year and will be attending high school in the fall. At her fall ’06 conferences, her guidance teacher mentioned the word “magnet.” I was not aware of its meaning, but apparently our county now has Magnet Programs which act as mini colleges within the high school. They offer specialized programs of study that the successful completion of will reward our dear daughter with college credits while still in high school.
Our good student applied to three of the six offered in our county (one of each of the study areas closest to our home) and was not so surprisingly accepted into all three. Part of the courting process the schools offered was a shadow day. She was allowed to go from 9-12 noon to the prospective school, whereby she “shadowed” another magnet student with similar interests. This exercise was to give her a really good idea of what classes would be like for her in that program. Not only did she take both the opportunities given her, but she thoroughly enjoyed feeling so grown up and free.
That left her with a big decision to make. She has been inclined toward one in particular, but the weight of the decision was heavy. The deadline is Friday. This morning she dropped into the mail box three envelopes – two letters of declination and one very excited acceptance. There was a noticeable sigh of relief in her posture.
I dropped her off at school in the afternoon. She’d been to her second shadow day – the one she was intending to attend. She’d weighed the program attributes, the activities offered, the feel of the school ambiance, and the practical aspects of how her out of district attendance would affect the family schedule. She’d made a wise and difficult decision. She felt good about herself and her direction. I felt the need to offer the “proud parent” speech and remind her how her good choices will positively effect her future. I left her there in the hallway outside the office. She smiled at me with a look that radiated from the inside.
She looked so grown up, but all I could see in my mind was flashes of the amazing mommy moments she’s given me over the years; her first smile, the first time she grabbed my finger, the first time she wrote her own name, the first time she went off to school boasting a most distastefully mismatched outfit she proudly picked for herself. I wanted to run to her, to throw my arms around her and hug her like I could when she was a little girl. I wanted to plant a sweet Mommy kiss on her forehead and stroke her hair and protect her from every potential harm that could come her way as she walks this path to adulthood.
But all I could do was smile back. Then I turned and walked toward our car. The sun was shining and warm, the birds were singing, and the sky was a most glorious blue. It was a bittersweet moment. Tears streamed down my face. I cried all the way home. Not because I was sad or had regrets in any way, but because I felt like my heart was so full it would explode inside my chest at any moment.
At the very tender and impressionable age of 14, this child of mine has taken the first steps in untying the apron strings. She’s taken the raw ingredients God gave her and is making something fantastic with them. I haven’t given her wings; she grew them on her own. I am a very lucky mommy, indeed.
~ the laundry goddess, March 21, 2007
