Uncharted Territory

You know the next corner is coming.

You know it's up ahead somewhere, just not exactly when you will reach it.  

But you know the corner will come, and you know you will turn that corner where all the child-like things will be in the past. The dimples on the fingers, the big hugs in front of friends, the hand holding yours, him wanting to go trick or treating with you, and on and on and on.

You never notice the moment when things stop. Because, let's face it, there is no big announcement that it is stopping. Your child doesn't announce that it's the last time he is going to want to watch a movie with you in the afternoon rather than hang out with a friend. A siren doesn't sound when it's the last hug at the bus stop. No declaration is made about these things. They just happen, and your chest aches because you would have absorbed even more from those precious moments had you known. 

It seems like there is no bridge between parenting the little and parenting the big. There is no dipping your foot into the pool to check out the water temperature so you can ease yourself into the cold, deep water. 

One minute you are standing there with the sun on your face, and the next you are pushed in, forced to tread water in an unfamiliar pool.

My phone is ringing and it's for him? He actually has buddies at school that I have never even met or heard of?

Who in the world is this kid becoming his own person? The one who can tell funny jokes that I didn't teach him? The one who doesn't need me to help him prepare for that test? 

Just as you studied and fell in love with that baby the nurse handed you, now you are studying and falling in love with this new person who is suddenly developing wings.

It's a hard process. Knowing how much to hold on and knowing how much to let go. The hardest part is knowing exactly how to navigate this uncharted territory.

You want to help guide them into this new phase, but feel lost yourself.

Have I told him things he needs to know? Have I told him enough? Have I told him too much?

Should I tell him not to do that? Or will that give him an idea he would never have thought of on his own and now his own mother just planted that seed?!?

But what if I DON'T tell him not to do that, and then someday he does it because I never told him not to!!!!!

On and on and on.

These sorts of things aren't discussed like the problems of the early years. Not the way we discussed nursing and pacifiers and naps and sleep schedules. 

This uncertainty is much quieter.

As the days from child to preteen chug forward at warp speed, I have to remember to fully appreciate and understand this new person in our midst. Such an unfamiliar middle ground. 

At times I see glimpses of the young boy, while other times seeing glimpses of the teen he will be.

But I must stop and remember to savor and enjoy this time just as I did the baby, and the toddler, and the little boy. 

This time may be a tad more confusing, but it's precious in its own way. 

This is when you get to see individuality soar. 

And I think it's even okay, probably necessary, to remind yourself that you helped this happen. You steered your child toward this spectacular metamorphosis.

I know this uneven kilter of a phase won't last forever, and as the next corner is turned, I will be looking back at this time as certainly confusing, but also magical.

And what is possibly more rewarding than fulfilling the needs of your child when he was an infant or even a toddler, is knowing that you have tried your very best to guide him to be the exact individual he was born to be. 

All the likes, dislikes, talents, quirks, and strengths are unlike anyone else's. And as his parent, you have known this. Understood this. Cultivated this. 

And watching all of this unfold- the essence of your child's individuality begin to soar- may, in fact, be the most precious stage yet.