SEVEN
Who is raising who?
My first born is 7 years old today. How is that possible when I’m just a carefree teen mom - one who is actually 35 and still figuring life out? She’s not a little girl anymore, she feels more like a pre, pre-teen with lots of opinions and emotions. There’s no more tricking her that the “tv is sleeping” or (my personal favorite) “the park is closed”. I feel like we’re a sneeze away from her asking if Santa Claus is real. And here I am, 7 years since stepping into the role of mom and still feeling like I’m being hazed in the initiation process. I’ve chosen my sorority, I’ve pledged. But it’s not all Kappa Kappa Gamma over here. Sometimes it’s a whole lotta Alpha Chi Ohmygod.
It is true what they say, though, it really does go fast. But also slow. I’ve been there for every milestone as the stay-at-home primary parent. I haven’t missed a beat. I’ve been on the front lines with an up close-and-personal view of my 7 year old’s childhood. There’s been so much joy, some heartache, lots of laughs, a small swimming pool amount of tears, lots of moments - big and small. This year has been a tricky year for us to navigate together. She seems to have all of the feelings with none of the tools to deal with them. I’ve read it’s common at this age, but just because something in the parenting realm is “common” doesn’t make it easier - or less worrisome.
This year, lots of things have happened. I have had to forfeit my perfectionism which admittedly spilled over into my parenting. I was an easy kid (if I recall) and don’t feel like I did much of anything to bring on any kind of karmic payback - like some other parents I know. Even so, I spent this past year asking questions and searching for answers, constantly vacillating between different parenting tactics and strategies. Because I tend to be a dog with a bone when I feel like something isn’t going just right. I’ll obsess, ruminate even. I’ll research to all the corners of the internet. My chatGPT probably has to smoke a cigarette at the end of the night from all the frantic questions I send its way.
Throughout these 7 years, I’ve learned that all kids have their things. I run our grades Daisy Troop which has 29 girls in it. Yep, you read that right, 2-9. It gives me a really good sample size of 6-7 year olds to compare my own to - not that you should compare, but it’s inevitable. Some girls are easier than others, sure, but a lot of those girls are painfully shy. A lot of them are agitators instead of aggressors so they fly under the radar. Some girls show natural leadership skills and others are the sheep following them around. You can tell the kids that have parents who speak kindly to one another at home. I really do like them all, though. I tend to look at everyone else’s child through a positive lens. And then I replace it with a critical one for my own daughter, which is the people pleaser perfectionist in me trying to replicate my own toxically positive traits.
I can admit this now. And I can also see that my daughter is very par for the course with her peers. It’s a tough age. They aren’t babies anymore and they are starting to learn the art of mean girling and inviting and disinviting to phantom birthday parties. I felt like this behavior started later on for my generation but also kids are growing up quicker. Blame the digital age. But back to my newly 7 year old. I truly believe God gave me her to help me release some things that hold me back. I’ve had to learn how to stick up for her because she always tends to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Confrontation used to give me hives, even the thought of it would put a pit in my stomach. But now I hope she sees it and knows that I am on her team - even in the times when she deserves a kick in the ass.
I have had to completely breakup with the people pleaser part of me when it comes to parenting as well. It just doesn’t work. And it puts too much pressure on both parties involved. I’ve also had to realize that my kid is her own person. She is not necessarily a direct reflection of my parenting prowess, or lack thereof. She is who she is - and quite honestly, she was born that way. I cannot manipulate or bribe her out of it. No amount of empty threats will force her participation in something she doesn’t want to do. Trust me, I’ve tried them all. It’s kind of cool, actually. I believe these traits will make her very successful in life and I’d be lying if I wasn’t actually a little bit envious. But it does make her a tough kid to raise at times.
I have always see her outer workings but I have also devoted a lot of this year to learning her inner workings. Like that she is homozygous for the MTHFR gene mutation which can mean nothing. But it can also be a clue into some underlying symptoms that could be related like:
Being more tired than expected
Trouble focusing or paying attention
Big emotions or mood swings
Anxiety or feeling overwhelmed easily
Headaches or migraines
Low energy or stamina
Trouble detoxifying certain medications or chemicals
Low folate, B12, iron, or other nutrient issues
Sleep challenges
Again, this isn’t a catchall diagnosis with some sort of miracle cure. It’s more like having a recipe you want to cook where you have to slowly figure out all the ingredients that it requires. There are some obvious ones and then some hidden ones and you keep recipe testing and at first the recipe might be inedible but it very slowly, sometimes imperceptibly gets better and better. That’s what parenting feels like. Who know’s how much baking soda goes into making a damn good kid but I’m still working on it. Just another missing piece to the overall puzzle…
Anyways, my firstborn is seven today.
She's stubborn. She feels everything deeply. She doesn't fold under pressure. She asks hard questions. She challenges authority. She refuses to participate in things she doesn't believe in. Sometimes those traits have society define her as “difficult” but I have a feeling they're going to serve her well someday. You know what they say: strong willed kids make successful adults
She’s not the daughter I imagined when I was pregnant.
She’s louder than that.
Bolder than that.
More opinionated than that.
And thank God for it. She’s better than I imagined.
Because while I’ve spent the last seven years trying to teach her how to move through the world, she’s quietly been teaching me too.
How to speak up.
How to care less about what other people think.
How to stop confusing compliance with character.
How to love someone exactly as they are.
Happy birthday to the kid who made me a mom and then immediately made me work for it.
I wouldn’t have it any other way.