When you raise a child, you become keenly aware of the passage of time as you watch them move through stages of growing and changing and becoming. Sometimes these stages come charging at you like a buffalo snorting and pawing at the ground (hello, teenage years! ugh.). And sometimes those stages whisper in on kitten paws and catch you unaware.
My Middle Child has always been my cautious child. She's the one who indirectly taught us that a word like masklophobia exists because we needed to put a name to her fear of mascots and people in masks or costumes. She's always been careful about her own personal safety, always been the one afraid of kidnappers and bad guys. She has always wanted me to be with her at the bus stop in the mornings and so I would go, shivering and stomping my feet, clutching a cup of coffee like a lifeline. She just didn't want to be alone (she's the only kid who gets on at her stop), and she was afraid that if she was alone, someone could snatch her.
She started 4th grade this fall and our routine of going to the bus stop together continued. Until a couple of weeks ago, when she told me that she would go to the bus stop on her own from now on. She told me that she was the only kid on her bus route that had a parent accompany them to the bus stop. She felt like she was old enough to handle it on her own now.
Kitten paws.
Just like that - she was older. She wasn't my super-cautious child anymore. She was older, and she was taking on her world. Alone. Without me.
I can see her bus stop from our living room window, so I watched her that first morning (and every morning since) as she took off on her own. There was no tentativeness to her journey. Indeed, what struck me was that she was so sure of each footstep. She seemed...brave. Not afraid of the world as she might have been a year or even a week before.
I was so proud of her.
And yet, it was bittersweet. Because it's hard to let go and let them negotiate the world. Just when you feel like the world is a safe enough place to send your children out, you read about a kidnapping, or a child being hurt. The news story about the girl that gets kidnapped on her way to school reminds you of your child that you send to school each day, trusting that the hand of God will protect her and that her fellow humans will not harm her. Hoping that all she learned from safety drills will come to her in a moment of danger. Wondering if she'll find her voice and her strength in a moment of crisis. Will she - my most compassionate child - help a sketchy guy find a lost puppy? Will she be able to summon the years of tae kwon do training and be able to defend herself against a bully? If the bus crashes, will she be able to find her way out of the wreck?
Ugh. It's hard, this parenting thing, this raising of little babes that turn into children that turn into people. I worry every day that I'm doing it wrong, that a comment or a deed (done or undone) will change the course of their lives from its original trajectory and I will screw them up irreparably. If I insist upon going to the bus stop with her, I will be able protect her, but will I keep her from growing? Will it shelter her too much? Or, if I stay home and let her go on her own, will she be hurt in some way?
In the end, I let her go on her own. Like I said, I watch from the window, still clutching a cup of coffee like a lifeline, though I'm much warmer indoors.
I watch as she strolls to the corner and waits at her stop.
I watch as she jumps around trying to see the bus as it approaches.
I watch as the bus opens its doors and swallows her up.
Off she goes, into her day and her world.
That was well written! And pretty much summed up what I feel on a daily basis! My absolute biggest fear is having my children kidnapped. I still watch my kids go to the bus stop. I watch my two youngest school kids walk down the street holding hands while I stand at the corner, keeping my distance. They want to do it on their own, but I can't NOT watch. I have to make sure they get on that bus and no one snatches them while they wait. I still watch my oldest as well, although I stand in front of our house and watch him go down the street to his bus stop. There is a pine tree that blocks my view, but I can see through it well enough to know when the bus stops there. I can also see if a car stops there. I can see the feet of the kids at the stop. I CANNOT see him actually get on the bus, though, and that still worries me every morning. I can't walk to the stop with him, though. Even though he hasn't reached the "don't be seen with your parents" stage, I know where the boundaries are and I don't want him to be teased by the high school kids that ride the bus, so I keep my distance for his sake. It is both scary and rewarding to see them progress and grow as they get older and mature and take those steps on their own. The worry about your kids is something that will NEVER go away. All we can do is hope that we've taught them well. Despite our own fears and shortcomings.
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