When I was a baby, just learning to walk, I clung desperately to my mothers arms, too afraid to let go. In her arm's I was safe, I could not fall and hurt myself, I could not fail, I could not disappoint her by toppling over into a heap of baby on the carpet. But there came a point when I had to depend on my own two feet and let go.
Going to school was an adventure. Everything began to change. I thought kindergarten was excellent because I got to paint, draw, play on the playground and invite lots of friends over to birthday parties. I remember eagerly running down the street to the school bus while holding my best friends hand. (Except of course on those early summer days when the ground was dry as a bone and my mother would make me wear rubber boots and finger mittens...than i wasn't so happy). But I was growing up. I spent 5 days a week at school, away from my family. I started to become independent and feisty, even at a young age. But my mom and dad were always there to keep me grounded. And by grounded I mean those long summer evenings spent in my bedroom sulking whilst I heard my friends playing outside. It was those days when I craved the most to be an adult. To listen to no one, to have no one hold me back and tell me what was best. I just wanted to Grow Up.
And grow up I did. As painfully slow as it often seemed, over the years I began to gain the independence I so greatly desired. Cooking Kraft Dinner without an adult present in the kitchen, going for bike rides without telling anyone (which always ended up getting me in trouble by the way), or shopping for my own clothes. I was determined to grow up. At first my endeavours ended up in failure. Messy kitchens that resulted in punishments, the shameful ride home from the park in the family car because you stayed out too late and weren't allowed to bike back home in the dark, and those darn extra-large shirts that you 'forgot' to try on in the store. I remember how frustrating it was. How stuck I felt. I thought I was ready to let go of my dependance on my family. But I wasn't. Not yet.
I remember when suddenly life became real. Almost a little too real. The realization that I was finally becoming an adult wasn't nearly as pleasant as I had hoped. I thought that growing up meant I could stay up late and eat at McDonalds everyday for lunch. It didn't take me long to realize that no bedtime meant no sleep. I began to regret those nights when I was young and would keep my parents up all night because I wasn't tired and could sleep all morning. Because now I was on the other end of things. Now I was the one slowly drifting off to sleep at 1 am, only to be awoken 5 hours later to an alarm that did not sound like mom's voice and did not tickle my feet or find me clothes to wear or brush my hair for me. If I'm tired, I wake up anyways, if I don't feel like going to work, I get dressed and drag my butt over there anyways and earn the money that I need to pay for all of the things that my parents used to buy for me. Back when my only concern was the boys at school chasing me with earthworms. Now I have to concern myself with phone bills, car payments, buying deoderant BEFORE I run out of it completely, finishing my homework without being prompted, keeping track of curfews, going to the doctor alone, making appointments, remembering appointments, feeding the cat, feeding myself.
Life is getting so real for me now and some days I can't help but imagine that I'm three years old again.That I don't have any stress or worries. That I'm safe in my mommy's arms and that I don't have to pretend to be brave. I used to want nothing more than to grow up, but now that it's happening I'm beginning to realize that with greater independence comes greater responsibility. Even though sometimes I just want to hide in the clothing racks at work until all of the people leave and when I have those mornings when I want to lie in my bed all day instead of waking up for school, I have to remind myself that this is what I wanted. This is what I asked for. So ready or not, here I grow.
