How to deal with the conundrum of the closed door? Cecilia is in sixth grade and likes to remind us she is not a kindergartner anymore. She’s right, of course. This is only the beginning of learning to let go. For both of us. Letting her shut the door and deal with her responsibilities and their repercussions is part of growing up.
Just letting her be isn’t always easy. For both of us. Will she embrace flash cards and to-do lists and bullet journaling by the third term? Of course not. She’s not perfect. Neither was I. It took me until ninth grade to figure out I could type of the English vocab lists early and sell them to classmates.
She’ll screw up. I’ll screw up. I do remember the disapproval or judgement of parents did little to effect my teenage habits, good or bad. I’ll do my best to wait and be available and let her ask for help if she needs it. But if she doesn’t, she’ll probably be okay, too. Kids are good at figuring things out.
(Except how to vacuum and clean up those sparkly hell flakes called glitter.)
I spent the first seven years of my post-collegiate time in a job I really didn’t enjoy. And I knew it within days of starting. The fact that it took me almost a decade to pluck up the courage to leave probably tells you a lot about my personality. I do not like to make waves and I will suffer silently for long periods of time.
Cecilia is knee-deep in learning fractions and we’ve had the usual ups and downs. I’m trying to get her to understand the importance of asking questions. Sitting silently and suffering if you don’t know something is a huge waste of time. If you’re not asking questions, you’re probably not challenging yourself. Or, if you have all the answers, you are likely quite satisfied with yourself in your comfort zone. Neither is good.
Asking questions is a key part of learning a new skill and moving forward. I do not want them to be like me, too scared, shy or proud to ask for help and then suddenly look back at a huge swath of seven years of wasted time.
Yesterday was a Saturday for mothers and daughters. A rite of passage that is sure to become a lasting memory. It certainly became clear in talking about it to various people in the last year, that just about every woman has a very clear memory of getting very sharp things pushed through her ear lobes.
Or, as Ally said, as Ce nervously waited her turn, “It doesn’t look that bad except for the very sharp needle they push through your tender ear.” That girl loves creating drama.
As part of her ninth birthday present, Cecilia has now joined the ranks of the 83% of Americans that have their ears lobes pierced. Let’s all hope it stops there. Or that I never find out about any others.
It was a gray, unsettled, sometimes wet Saturday here. In other words, spring in New England! But it wasn’t freezing. And we weren’t over scheduled for what felt like the first time in a month. We had the usual dance class for Cecilia (recital costumes arrived today! – very exciting in the life of an 7 year old dancer), a trip to Costco (free lunch of samples for the kids!) and then some science fair prep (nothing like some Saturday homework).
As usual we started the day on the couch with a show and some maple sausages….