Separation is Hard

I like to think of myself as a pretty chill parent. I let my kids lead for the most part. We still set boundaries with our children, as you should in any relationship, but I don't have a lot of actual "rules", more like rituals. Anyway, because of the whole one less car issue, I made the executive decision to have Macy ride the bus to school for the rest of the year. She's changing school next year (for exciting reasons I'm sure I'll talk about some other time!) and we are required to drive her there. So this is clearly a 5ish week change. But my darling daughter is me to a tee. She resists change. When I mentioned to her that it was a real possibility, she was upset. We were walking home from school and she essentially raced away and walked home without me. I figured she needed time to process her feelings and wasn't surprised. We had a bus incident (I'm sure it'll come up here eventually) when she was in kindergarten that I had in the back of my mind to revisit so she doesn't have issues with independence in this area and karma intervened. Here we are, taking the bus. 
So we're confronting some past trauma for both of us. We're also making an unexpected change and not really by choice. We're cutting into the precious Macy/Mommy time we have each morning and both of us share Quality Time as our primary love language. And yet, once Daddy explained through the emotional haze that this was a necessary step for all of us (it's really the safest, best choice for the family with one vehicle right now) and that sometimes being in a family means doing things that we don't want to do. Personal sacrifice is part of community and that's an important lesson (one I'm still really wrestling with on the church level) to learn. 
Waiting patiently for me to return after a potty break.
20 minutes, people!
Once I realized that on top of feeling like there's too much change for her (new school next year and getting glasses) that Macy's primary concern was not having as much time with me, I determined that I would get up earlier and make her lunch the night before. Of course, we were ready way early and rather than read together, which I was fully expecting, Macy was ready to skip to the curb and wait for the bus for TWENTY minutes. That kid. This, she also gets from me. Once the change is determined, you face it with gusto. We chatted with the neighbor boys and got the skinny on where to sit (and apparently where NOT to sit. Bus politics have not changed, my friends) and I introduced her to the bus driver. 
Lots of roadside hugs
I came home feeling sad and relieved. This time is different. When you revisit something that was scary, the fears start talking and shame voices gain traction. Sadness or grief pay a visit. If you don't know the word for this type of experience, it's called "triggering." I'm mostly nostalgic that my little girl is growing up and I'm proud of myself for making a hard decision that's still the right one for the whole family. Sometimes my perfectionist brain thinks that what is best for the whole family might harm the individual (this is a theme for me from the trauma of our post-partum depression experience). And sometimes, that's true. But in this case, I believe this is also what's best for Macy. If we can still get her need for quality time met, she will gain confidence and independence through this that will help prepare her to change schools in the fall. I guess all of that is to say, it's okay that "normal" adjustments are hard for you. I know so many people who don't bat an eye at this type of change and probably think I'm silly for feeling all the feels. But I do. Perhaps because I have so many feelings, it has made me the right mom for the daughter who is just the same. 

Mothers & Daughters...Adversaries, Friends & Everything In Between

It is well documented that the mother/daughter relationship is tricky. I have friends who are estranged from their mothers, ones in enmeshed relationships and everything in between. It is a very strange thing, to be in relationship with someone who literally was your first home. I know this applies to all mother/child relationships, but there is something unique about the mother/daughter dynamic (mother/son, father/son, and father/daughter, of course all have their own baggage too). 
There are a lot of expectations on both sides, whether they are spoken or not. Perhaps this comes from the fact that subconsciously, I think all children hold their mother most responsible for their childhood experience. If yours was difficult, then it's probably mom who wasn't nurturing enough, who should have stayed home, should have worked, etc. Even when the problem was obviously dad, say he's an abuser, somehow we still hold mom responsible for not standing up to him, for not appeasing him, for staying with him or for leaving. Maybe that's even why our society still blames women when they get raped, based on how she was dressed, how much she drank and where she was when innocently walking alone. 
No matter the reason, being a mother and being a daughter is an intense experience. I've written poetry documenting some of these feelings, the tidal wave of gratitude, fear and fathomless love I felt becoming a mother for the first time. The way becoming a mother reshaped how I saw my own mother and her mother before her. I've written about the pain of parting ways with some of the beliefs my mother taught me about God, life and myself. There is a true awkwardness facing a reality that your parents can't speak into, that they don't know or fully understand. And while it feels juvenile to me to have those feelings, it makes sense. For years, your mother is the steward of your experiences. She's the keeper of the memories. It's mom who knows your friends, teachers, boyfriends. Mom is the one in tune with your inner angst, joy, heartache. She creates, cultivates and monitors your environment.* Heck, she IS your environment for those first several months and years of your life. To move outside of that influence is both terrifying and critical for true adulthood. 
There are a lot of things I know my mom did right. It brings me great comfort as I confront her humanity. One of the things that I treasure most is that my mom was the one who woke up with us every morning. While my dad slept til 9, mom got up at 6 to make breakfast, pack lunches, set out our vitamins and sit at the kitchen table with us. Every. Single. Day. I don't have one childhood memory of my dad in the early morning, unless we were taking a road trip. While that is weird and maybe even sad, I cherish those hours spent with my mother. There is a true comfort and confidence that comes with that peaceful yet busy attention. It buoys you as you face the world each day. 
Lucky for me, I am the morning person between Tim and I just as my mother was. When Macy started preschool, it was decided that I would get up to get her ready for school each day. I love this time with her. And while I have always loved it, it has become more precious to me of late. Macy is turning 7 in a few weeks and every morning (at least the ones Penny sleeps in) I get a full hour just me and her. She eats her breakfast and I pack her lunch. Often I will read her a Bible story. We discuss her ideas about God. We talk about school and her friends. I give her hugs and kisses and we laugh together. 
She's currently recovering from a sinus infection and just started back at school yesterday. Emotions are right at the surface. This morning she fell out of her chair, hard. As she was crying, I picked her up and held her. I sat her on my lap while she let out her feelings. As she gets older, these moments grow fewer so I marveled at the joy of her sitting on my lap, both my arms wrapped tightly around her. There is nothing sweeter than receiving comfort from your mother and now, as an adult, being the one who gives it. 
I've been feeling down about myself lately, wondering what exactly it is that I do all day and if it is enough. It's sad that I'm in this place. Tim doesn't understand it, believing strongly in all the things I do. I made a list of all my responsibilities and that made me feel better. But all in all, as an achiever, at some point, the lists can be very long and you still fight this feeling of inadequacy. It's not so much whether you're doing enough but should you be doing more. It's a terrible mentality and I wouldn't wish it on anyone. At some point, I have to give value in my head to what I already know in my heart. What I do matters greatly. Maybe someday I will transition to a time where my day to day tasks look more accomplished, when my resume reads impressively, when I have titles and recognition. But in this time of lap-sitting and lunch-making, I must remind myself that in these moments, I am contributing to society in a big way. When we raise confident, loved children, good things happen in the world. And that's all I really want, to a be a part of something good. I can only hope that this time with Macy brings her courage to face the world at large and make it better, one morning at a time. 
* I recognize that not all children have a mother like mine. There are instances where the father is the more in-tune, nurturing parent. While I acknowledge that happens, because it wasn't my experience, I can't speak into that dynamic.