Five

          It’s curious to think of how much in a life can change in the course of say, 5 years. Thinking about that length of time is naturally linked to the proportion of your life that it represents.  For me, a woman in her (sigh) 30’s, 5 years is right in the middle of starting to feel insignificant and still being pretty monumental.  When I think of some of the 5 years stretches that I have lived through- age 5 to 10 when you transition from substantial  parental dependence to burgeoning adulthood, age 12 to 17 when everything in your world seems so darn important and dramatic that it’s hard to see beyond the next football game, the college years (plus 1) when the pressure is on to decide which direction your life will go, etc- it seems hard to imagine that any stretch could encompass that much change and forward motion.

            But, of course, what is life but a series of moments where you realize that you are totally and absolutely wrong.  My darling daughter turns 5 tomorrow.  And while I have watched her, day in and day out (and through many long sleepless nights as well) grown and change and develop from a swaddled pink bundle to a back-talking, ballet-dancing, somersault-rolling, firecracker of a kindergartener-to-be, somehow my brain cannot comprehend that the two are one and the same and that all of those changes have taken place in a mere 5 years.  The significance of these 5 years is not only huge to her (obviously!) but to me as well (equally obvious!) because of the impact of motherhood and far beyond.  It is hard to clearly remember a time when a major portion of my conscious mind was not focused on her, her needs, her interests and her well-being. 

            Now past the demands of toddler-dom, she is quite suddenly and startlingly an independent person.  It somehow snuck up on me despite all of the signs and movement in that direction.  Over the past few years she has shed the need for me like leaves, one by one.  Once diapers were done, the crib was gone, she no longer needed a nap, could dress herself, brush her own teeth and reach the snack cabinet, suddenly Mommy was not so necessary.  And in only five years. 

            So who am I after 5 years of parenting- the last 3 of which were compounded by child #2? What do I do with all of the brain power that was devoted to remembering when the last breast-feeding session ended or counting how many minutes she was actually asleep at naptime?   Now she’s zipping around the house on her scooter, waving on the way by like it’s no big deal. When did all of this happen?

            It’s not to say that I don’t enjoy the return of some functioning parts of my brain.  (Though some of that released brain power has switched over to focus on how to answer her unending questions about the complexities of dinosaurs vs. dragons and on tv and computer-usage negotiations!) I fully enjoying sleeping the whole night through and not having double diaper duty.  And watching her be this independent person has, I admit, produced thus far unheard of levels of pride.  Case in point- I dropped her off backstage at her dance recital last week.  She waved over her shoulder and called out “Bye Mom!” without even looking back to see if I was still there, so eager was she to join her friends.  A big part of me wanted to pull her back, give her a big hug and several well-planted kisses and ask her a couple times if she would be ok without me.  A clearly unnecessary move and one that would have been all about me and not her.  Instead I said goodbye and took my seat in the audience and watched her big shining moment while one proud tear rolled down my cheek. And it was, of course, totally brilliant. The pride I felt seeing her on that stage, dancing her dance with a huge happy smile on her face, was enormous.  And I gave her plenty of hugs and kisses afterwards- which she accepted and returned with huge enthusiasm.  A decent balance, I would say.

            I’m not saying she doesn’t need me.  She still wants to cuddle when she drinks her milk and requires bedtime stories at night and kisses for her boo-boos.  All fine by me.  It helps me hold on to those days when she needed nothing more than to fall asleep on her momma’s shoulder to calm whatever was bothering her.  But while she’s off playing with her Barbies or generously entertaining her younger brother, I’m figuring out where to go from here.  I had thought 5 years ago that the major decisions in my life were generally made.  Now on the other side of that span of time, I see that the all of those old clichés are true- time changes everyone, times rolls on, this too shall pass, and so on.  Adventures in motherhood are only part of the re-vamping of every conceivable aspect of my life.  I’d like to claim that the effort to give my children the best lives I can possibly provide has led me to create a better life for myself.  I’m not sure it’s that simple, but I’m holding on to the idea.  At the very least, I want to be the best role model- not always an easy thing to be.  But if I can change, well, everything in 5 years, then I’m pretty sure anything is possible.