I was sitting in an office today after work, helping daughter wade through all that is involved in buying her first car, well, not really first but first with, you know, financing. The forms, forms and even more forms, oh my, the forms.
She's looking for another (2nd) job, she has a line on an animal hospital looking for a vet tech and since she works part-time with one of the vets on staff there, she's hopeful that she'll get the position.
These moves all move her closer to moving out. onward and upward toward her truly adult self. It is all very good and a little scary.
Just a bit over a year ago M moved out. He's had an interesting, productive, trying, exhilarating, frustrating and successful year. As he's recently secured a more secure job, he'll be looking for a new apartment soon.
Overall I'm as excited for them as they navigate a whole new slew of firsts as I was when they were learning to talk, walk, run and such. But I am also afraid sometimes.
Today while I was in the office helping D, M called and told me all about his adventure getting home from work. He's fine (better than I would be if I had to be evacuated from a train, even with the electricity turned off) and for him, this is just another "life in the city" story.
For me it was a flash of wishing he was still staging battles among his action figures in the middle of the living room.
A few days ago, I insisted that Liv and I clean out the old toy box in the basement and put her "baby" toys in bags for the Goodwill. She said that she knew she had outgrown her Barbie dolls and threw them all heartlessly into the bag. I sat there chewing my lip and thinking of all the times I had been asked to be the judge of their diving contests in the bathtub.
ReplyDeleteBut, in the end, of course, they went to Goodwill.
Next thing I know that posters of African tree frogs and gemstones on her walls will be replaced by those Jonas brothers or something....
I'm finally at the point (with Jen) of understanding what my parents must have gone through with my adventures in young adulthood. It's sometimes so hard to just listen, and not chime in, telling Jen what to do, or how to handle a situation.
ReplyDelete*sigh*
ReplyDeleteI so hear you. Letting go is turning out to be the hardest part of parenting for me. Give me a screaming toddler anyday - just don't leave me.
*double sigh*
Oh...yikes...this scares me too. Why is it when I was 21 - 23 I thought I was so grown up...but when I look at my kids who are this age I think of them still as so naive and young and innocent?
ReplyDeleteThe daughter called me last night...she and the son drove to Chicago from NJ. They called to say they were safe and OK. (Thank you!) and the daughter is now so jealous that the son is out living on his own she wants to do it to.
I want to let her go...but I don't want to at the same time.
Do we ever stop worrying?