Growing up and the mama shield

I have a little knot of thoughts and recent memories stuck in my head– seemingly unconnected things; details from daily life– but which, stepping back a bit, paint a picture for me of the tugging in both directions– the tugging that is part of growing up.  If one is lucky enough to have an adult or two who has the time and attention to help out– this pulling away, then pulling in close– seems to happen.  (Though we must remember that having a parent or two with time and attention isn’t the situation for so many young people throughout our community, the country and the world– through no fault of theirs and no fault of their parents either).  But in our case, in our household, growing up seems to involve some pulling away and then pulling back in towards home, safety, reassurance.

Three unrelated things from this past week are strung together as a small narrative in my mind.  Growing up.  (As if the mere size of my daughter’s body and the frequency with which we discover that once again a whole new wardrobe must be found and the old one set aside, washed, packed up and given away– weren’t reminder enough).

First is that while in New York, late in a couldn’t-quite-mobilize day– my daughter expressed definitively that she wanted to go to a show, preferably the Abba musical– Mama Mia.  I know this idea came from her because though I really like to get out, I would happily have lived out our vacation in New York and my entire life without ever seeing Mama Mia.  Her expression of a strong desire to go was a huge change because she has always had issues with loud, with dark with certain kinds of crowds– thus making movie theaters, Broadway and other stage productions and large street demonstrations (which I often love)– less than appealing to her.

It was our last night, the day had been slow-moving, but we decided not everyone needed to go stand in line, so my partner left to get tickets while my daughter and I stayed home.  Then my partner called us saying she had braved the cold, the crowds, and the line and had scored three tickets but with one glitch.  No two of them were together.  I thought she was completely out of her mind to have done this, but we left that go completely, had no argument or unpleasant words and moved on.  Though I really had to think this through.  I neither thought this would work for my daughter, nor did I think, independent of whatever she might think, that sending her to sit by herself in a crowded theater in Times Square– made any sense at all from a safety point of view.  But there we were with three tickets, money spent and at least two of us (the two of them) who actually wanted to see the show.

To make a logistical story and a long internal emotional, relationship story shorter–after several cell phone calls back and forth with my partner I decided that the way to handle all this was to just all meet at the theater and with tickets in hand, to check it out.  We’d see if we could make a trade along the way, but I declared that the adults in particular needed to be fully prepared to just walk away and “waste” the tickets if the scene didn’t look really safe from my point of view and fun and emotionally workable for my daughter.  After a false start– with an empty seat directly behind her, but that someone claimed as the music began– my daughter did sit alone, said she felt ok about it, though seemed to feel not so ok, but not terrible, for the first act.  She was, the whole time, within my sight line so long as I had my head turned sharply to the left–away from the stage, which is exactly how I sat for most of that act.

During intermission I brokered a trade with one of a group of young Japanese tourists– sitting behind me.  One of them moved away from their group and took my daughter’s seat, then the rest of them all moved over one seat to the left and my daughter moved to sit directly behind me– with me contorted in an odd position so she could hold my hand for the second act– which she asked to do.

The next piece in my head is that she decided Monday, and we went, to get her ears pierced.  Again (not unlike seeing Mama Mia), something that I have had no investment in her doing and something that took a certain inner strength on her part.  She decided that morning she wanted to do this.  Then she said she was really scared and nervous for the next hour but she insisted she wanted to go ahead and we did, with many opportunities offered for her to change her mind.  She was enthusiastic about it at the several points along the way where she could easily have backed out and the moment came and they did pierce her ears.  I don’t care a bit that her ears are pierced, but I did love seeing her tackle a decision that was a stretch for her and I loved being with her and loved, for once, being a parent who was so fully free of any judgement or agenda for the outcome.  I was free, for once, to just follow her mind, listen to her fears, and follow her lead.

Before

Choosing which earrings

Anticipation

Done!

Amidst these things, these outward growing up things– she hangs on tight to us.  Which is very good.  I don’t remember which night recently she was in our bed, asleep.  And I woke up in the middle of the night to roll over or to pee or something and she literally turned to me in her sleep, looped her arm through mine, lifted her head and laid it on my chest and holding very tight smiled in her sleep and said very plainly, “You’re my shield.” She then patted me once and continued sleeping.

Birth and growth, though all around us, are in some ways beyond our ability to really comprehend.  Such a miracle, seemingly impossible, they just happen.  I have many complicated feelings about being a mother whose daughter is growing up.  But in her wisdom, she has given me a reminder of a good and satisfying and important role in this time of our lives together.  I am the mama shield.

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