Big Girl

Now that Ainsley has moved into her "big-girl" room and bed, I guess it's official: she's a big girl. And her mom is a big, blubbering mess because of it.

Ainsley is my first child, but because of my medical history and the possibility that she will be our only child, she's also my baby. I've been both thrilled to see her grow up and hit all those milestones that are supposed to make my parenting life easier--first steps, first words, adult food, potty training--and sad because each step takes her a little further away from me. You want your babies to be healthy and strong and to learn to take care of themselves, but learning to take care of themselves means they don't need their mommies as much.

We've all been guilty of babying her too much. She was the first grandchild for my parents in 14 years, and their only granddaughter. In the first two years of her life her mom faced a life-threatening disease and her grandfather died; in our worry and grief I think we all clung to her a little tighter and did things for her rather than teaching her to do for herself. But in the last school year, the first year that's she's attended her learning center full-time, she's gotten more independent and more sure of herself. She doesn't want to be our baby anymore; she is her own little strong-willed being and she asserts her independence at every turn. I've gotten a glimpse of the young lady she will become, and it's made for both some of my happiest moments as a parent and some of my most heart-breaking.

Earlier this month she balked at me calling her "Ains." When we named that child, we swore we would never shorten her name or call her any nickname, but early in the game my mom started calling her "The Ains" and it stuck. Now I get corrected when I call her "Ains"; she lets me know, in her child-like but assertive little voice, that she wants to be called "Ains-LEY!" I have a feeling that our "Mommy" and "Daddy" titles are about to get updated, too; last night in the shower during yet another discussion about Ains v. Ainsley, she asked if she could call me "Mom" and Jason "Dad." I've spent the last 4 years seeing myself as a "mommy"; I don't know if I am ready to be a "mom" with all its connotations of a more grown-up mother-daughter relationship.

There are times she has a teenager's attitude. Tell her to do something like put away a toy when she is already on her way to pick it up, and you get "But I am putting it away!" and a look that tells you you're just too clueless for words. Ask her to do something she doesn't want to do and she lowers her head and looks at you with angry eyes and clenched eyebrows in an early attempt at a dirty look. And her latest comeback when we get angry with her? "I don't want to live in this house anymore!" My mom tells me she's just testing boundaries and asserting her personality, but I fear her headstrong ways foreshadow major battles when she hits her teen years. It's enough to make me want to skip head to her college graduation.

Oh, but what I would miss if I did that. I would miss her surprise hugs, when she suddenly drops whatever she's doing to wrap her arms around my legs and say, "I love you" for no obvious reason. I would miss how sweet she smells after her bath at night and how soft she feels cuddled up next to me at storytime. I would miss watching her sleep flush-cheeked with her best friend Lumpy tucked under her arm. I would miss her telling me that she wants to be a mommy and a dancer when she grows up and her absolute faith that anything is possible. During those times, when she's doing those pure and innocent things that young children do, I can forget that she's growing up and will soon be too cool to want goodnight kisses and ask me to sing songs with her at the top of our lungs with no adult embarrassment or self-consciousness. A few minutes a day, she's still my baby, even if she is in a big bed in a big room that she helped to decorate.

In her mind, this move from her toddler bed and nursery has made her a big girl. In my mind, she will always be the little baby who watched the pastel animal mobile and counted on mommy and daddy for everything. Throughout our lives together I will have reminders that that baby is becoming her own person--the first day of school, the first lost tooth, the first heartbreak, graduation, her wedding, the births of her own children. I imagine many of our struggles will be because I see the baby when I should see the young lady.

Giving birth and staying up all night with a crying newborn is hard. Letting go and letting her grow up? So much harder. But more and more I see that that's what being a "mom" is really all about.