Transformation

My beautiful, loving, extraordinary oldest daughter started middle school Tuesday.  By day 3 of middle school, I’m dealing with a completely different child!  I’ve heard of this instant transformation from other parents and in some ways, I feel I’ve prepared myself for this as best I can.  Yet, nothing could have prepared me for last night. 

She wanted to go to the high school football game because a few of her fellow 6th grade friends were going.  I thought it would be fine as long as I attended along with her, but my younger daughter and I really did not want to go.  I said next time when I’ll go with you, you can go.  She had a melt down!  She wasn’t disrespectful directly to me, but she cried in the car and then flung herself in her bedroom as soon as we got home.  The entire neighborhood probably could hear her wailing at the injustice of it all!  She told me that “everyone” in the 6th grade would be talking about the game on Monday and when they asked her if she went, she would have to say, “No, my mom wouldn’t let me go!”    This,  spoken with absolute disgust of course.  Suddenly the “best momma in the whole world” of only a few days ago was transformed into the worst mother in the 6th grade; a fate worse than death apparently.

And although this was miraculously worked out this time by a friend who offered to take her to the game and stay there for its duration, I was struck hard in the gut by the reality of my situation, feeling as though the wind had been knocked out of me upon the realization that she is suddenly on her way off and there’s nothing I can do but sit and watch her go…  Watch her enter into the world where her friends are the most important thing in her life; where being popular with everyone is the goal; where I’m only going to again be “the best momma ever” if I compromise my rules and boundaries.

I don’t know what to do except call her father across the country in Nevada after she leaves to discuss my fears and sadly inform him that our daughter is no longer the girl we’ve known and loved for the past 11 years.  He, of course, has some practical suggestions as how to possibly “handle” this transformation and I am grateful for his practical nature, but still feel scared out of my mind that for all intents and purposes, I am in this battle alone.  He is a fantastic father to our children and a wonderfully generous provider so I’m much more fortunate than most.  Yet, for all of that, the nature of our situation, requires that I alone take on every upcoming battle we have ahead of us.

And I’m mourning this sudden loss.  I picture my little baby with her soft baby-curls flowing all around her head like a halo, running to me as fast as her short chunky little legs could carry her and shrieking, “Mamma, I wanna hold yoooooooooou!”, insisting I tuck her in at night because she “can’t fall asleep” if I don’t, begging me to read “that story again”, falling down and needing me to kiss her boo-boo bye-bye…  My mind runs through every precious beautiful loving thing we’ve shared and deeply regrets every single time I was “too busy” or too preoccupied to give her my full attention or play whatever little girl game she wanted me to play right that moment.  Of course, I was going to lose her eventually anyway, right?  Even if I had been there every moment for every single thing she ever wanted me for, she was still going to get to this place of complete separation and re-prioritization.

Oh, I feel so very unprepared and so utterly alone in this stage before the perpetual heart-breaking battles begin!  I love her so much and I’m so very afraid for what’s to come.