“Ok G ready to be tucked in?”
“I’m good Mom”
“I’m going to tuck myself in.”
“Oh ok, Do you need anything, A hug?”
“Nope, Mom I’m good.”
“Ok well I love you.”
“I love you too Mom.”
That is when my eleven year old daughter broke my heart.
Bedtime is a ritual. It’s a treasured ritual. It’s sometimes the only time of the day I get to talk to G about her day where she is unfiltered. It’s when we cuddle. We joke. We even have our own poem. It’s been our thing since she was two.
I treasure that quiet with her, don’t get me wrong,when I’m an exhausted mess I would be a liar if I told you before she could read I didn’t edit stories so we could both get to sleep faster.
But this is different.
She chose this.
As she is a lot of things lately.
Which I’m happy about… her finding her footing, being comfortable and independent. But for nine years good, bad or otherwise she has been my solar system.
So much so she has never met a single person I’ve dated. I can hear your collective intake of breath and tongue clucks. Read my blog series… it will make sense.
That’s not why we’re here. Another time. Another time.
I want my girl to feel secure but does this mean she doesn’t need me?
We have started entering the stage of one syllable answers to questions, if I get answer. I embarrass her now. Before if I broke out in song in the car she would have sang along, now she yells for me to stop.
She also comments on things about me she didn’t before.
I’ll just say it- how I look. How I act.
So this is new for me,as before I was Mom. Gorgeous no matter what. Perfect no matter what. Allowed to tuck in no matter what.
Now she sees me.
I mean really sees me.
My stress, my hurt, my happy. My silly. She doesn’t always like what she sees and she tells me.
She asks me point blank questions about things she never did before.
The reality of not tucking her in is more than just not tucking her in.
She’s growing up. While I am incredibly proud of who she is becoming. I selfishly still want her to need me. Is she still going to need me?
Will you still need me …When I’m 64? Beatles song… sorry…
I am sure she does and will. I am 47 and when I’m sick all I want is my Mom, but I think you get it.
Relationships between Mothers and daughters can be fragile things. I’m scared.
What if I screw this up?
And now you know my secret. While I hate I’m not tucking her in. It does mean some extra quiet time for me. Our majestic golden doodle now sleeps with her. Less chaos at bedtime because she is handling it.
But it also means we are entering those years.
The ones we see on the Lifetime movies, talk shows, The Kardashian’s.
Ok, I don’t watch that… but ack!
I certainly don’t want to be a cool Mom. I mean, raise your hand if you saw Mean Girls?
But I want to be someone she can come to. That is my fear. Or at the least if not me someone else and know she can send them my way after.
I went to college with women who couldn’t talk to their Moms. I am friends with women who couldn’t talk to their Moms. I sometimes can’t talk to my Mom.
I don’t want perfect but I want a balance. Guys,I am so terrified you know who will goof it up. I know I keep saying that, but I think sometimes as a single Mom we wear our worry and sadly guilt like jewelry, heavy around our necks. We don’t mean to, but for me I know I made the right choice but it’s still a tough one and it still is hard on her.
For now I am going to still ask if she needs anything about three times at bedtime.
Sneak in after she’s asleep and kiss her forehead.
Revel in the fact that even though my poor baby had the worst tummy bug ever the other night guess who she had tuck her in?
That’s right.. the same lady who sings Jump Around at embarrassing levels in the school pick up lane.
We got this Mama.
At least I think we do.
Big loves Mamas
Single Mom of the amazing Dbl G
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