Momnesia

Feels Like the First Time...

Childhood is a collection of firsts. First day. First diaper change. First bath. First week without sleep. First cold. First tooth. First crawl. First step. First word. First return to a regular sleeping schedule.

Aside: After writing the word "first" so much, it began to seem like an alien word. I had to go and check the spelling. Anyone ever have one of those moments? Anyway...

In the last 24 hours, Emerson has had TWO firsts:

• First cracking an egg without making a mess or mixing in bits of the shell
• First microwaving her own meal

Oh, yeah! We are a big girl now!

Emmie has always liked to "help" cook (read: hinder and destroy the kitchen in the process of hindering), but last night she cracked two eggs into a bowl by herself and then stirred them up and microwaved them. I cut the cheese (hee!) to melt into the mixture. "Because we not tush da dangerous," she said, of the knife I used.

And just now, she went and got her leftovers out of the refrigerator, stuck them in the microwave, turned the knob to 20, and heated up her own lunch for the first time. I didn't even flinch when she shrieked, "I DO MYSELF!"

"Okay," I shrugged, and retreated to peek at her from around the corner. I didn't want her blowing up the joint by sticking a fork in the microwave (ahem... Penny...).

Then she sat down at the coffee table. "I sit by you, Mama, 'cause I'm a big girl," she informed me, as she sat primly down beside me. "Da table is for little babies."

I looked over at the Little Tykes table that my parents bought for her and thought of the first day she had used it. She was just out of her high chair, and they were so happy to give it to her. She thought she was a big girl then, too.

I thought I was a big girl when I turned 13. And again when I graduated high school. And again when I went to college, got my first real job, got married, got pregnant and had her.

But every day I'm constantly reminded of how little I know, how far I have to mature. Every moment of parental discipline is a series of choices as to whether I fall into the knee-jerk "because I said so, that's why we don't jump on the couch" route, or the more refined "because I would like to prevent you from falling off on your head and hurting yourself" direction. I sometimes meet myself halfway with something like "because I would like to prevent you from falling on your head," and then follow with some muttering about, "so you won't be drooling on the short bus" that she can't hear.

Serenity in the face of danger. Immaturity behind its back. That's how I roll.

She stood so tall today. So proud of her accomplishments over the last couple of days. Two days of dry diapers. Two meals prepared "BY MYSELF!" Three - almost four - years of life already behind her. For the first time, she was able to look back at herself and see her own accomplishments for what they were: growth.

As for me, for the first time I was faced with a real move toward independence by the utterly helpless little 7 pound pink-faced closed-eyed hairless monkey that graced our lives. She's spent 9 months + 3 years clinging to me for everything. Today, she took her first real step away.

And for the first time, my pride in her was tinged with sadness. I'll enjoy watching her grow up. But she'll need me less and less from now on.