THE CHANGE

I have begun the crazy, maddening long journey of planning my daughter's Quinceañera.  My first born baby girl is going to be 15.  The marking of her becoming a young lady.  A woman.  Almost an adult.  No longer my little girl...  oh, I have cried more in the last few days than in the last year.  Sigh.

Of course, she's ecstatic about searching for her dress, trying the ball gowns on and tiaras, looking at venues, and designing her cake.  Searching for the perfect invitation, setting up photography sessions, menus, and choreographing her waltz.   And I sit in awe at how in command she is, how decisive with her choices, how adamant that it all have her special stamp on it.  I can see the strong woman she's becoming.  I can see that yet unrefined, rough around the edges young woman struggling to emerge from the cocoon that is my little girl.

Now, I know that 15 does not a woman make, but it's the time when I have to start to loosen the reigns, and trust that she's learned the lessons that I've tried to teach her since she was born.  I have to let her handle things on her own, make choices, mistakes, I have to let her stumble through things.  And NOT try to fix them, just be there for her, to hold her hand, give her advice without telling her it's what she should do.  I have to trust that as a Christian young woman, with a firm belief in Christ, and with the lessons of her childhood, she can handle all the issues that will come her way.  And I hope that she always remembers that she's never on her own, that her parents will always be there for her, her family is her support system, and that our Lord, God Almighty will never abandon her.

As you can see, I am seriously struggling with "The CHANGE"!!  I yearn for her first days, when I held her for hours on end, when she would giggle because I made a face, or sleeping trustingly in my arms.  I miss think of her first step, her first word, her first temper tantrum.  Her chunky baby hands leaving grubby marks on my TV and furniture, ketchup finger painting on my hallway wall, wearing her pizza slice as a hat, and using the sauce for a facial.  I remember when she tried to ride the neighbor's dog, since the pony was too big, I think of her Mother Hubbard attitude when her siblings were born, how authoritative she was with everyone that came to visit, they couldn't touch her baby until they washed their hands, she wanted to pick out their clothes, bathe them.  She even tried to change a diaper once, which was a dirty experience that she decided was too gross for her to ever repeat, thank goodness!!

I am very worried that by the time her special day rolls around that I'm going to be one huge, blubbering mess!!!  When do tears run dry?  Ya think that will happen before the photographer starts to snap pictures?!  Probably not, and I'll end up with a ton of pics of me red nose, and eyes puffy from all the crying...but then that will give us one more story to laugh over when my baby girl wants to reminisce with her emotional old mama...