Mark, Tyler the nanny and I all made it to the school's Sanctuary at the appointed time. As did more than a couple hundred other parents, grandparents, caregivers, et all. All of us had digital cameras with charged batteries, most also had video cameras. We were all craning our necks to see our child process in the door.
I was so proud! I tear up now thinking of watching her coming in. Looking for us way back in the rows of parents. And then her face just lit up upon seeing us. She broke into a grin and waved madly at us. Notwithstanding the fact that over half of the kids were waving to over half of the parents probably at that same instant, my daughter was just elated that we were there. And I, once again, was elated that she was there. That she... is... here.
Of all the comments that well-intentioned friends and relatives said to us about when we were going to have another child, the most memorable one that stuck in my claw so-to-speak was someone who said "You need to have another one Jill, you are going to suffocate the one you have with love otherwise." Because part of me worried that she was right.
Can you love a child too much? Will she one day say to me "Leave me alone... don't you have something else to do other than smother me?"
Even with four children, my mother had an amazing ability to make each of us feel smothered at one time or another. Loved to the extreme? Ummm, not words any of us would have used. But she meddled, she focused, she intervened. She knew what each of her children were doing when we lived at home, at all times. I yearned for a mother who "had a life" other than her kids' lives.
Here I am a career mom, but am I getting soft? Will Sadie judge me the same way as I judged my mom?
I used to be known as being somewhat "contrarian" in my ways. I know more than a few of my partners at my former firm (and a lot more than a few associates) who would say that I have been, let's say, difficult on occasion. Not particularly understanding of others' priorities when it came to my transaction. Sometimes argumentative. Kind of a bitch, some days, a few would say. I wouldn't say that this is a requirement for a female attorney with a financing/transactional practice, but the few that I have met over the years that do what I do, we all face the same criticisms. People don't usually refer to us as most agreeable. Or laid back. Or grateful. A ball of fire, yes. Maybe pretty fun once the closing dinner comes along, yes. But appreciative of life's blessings? Humble? Not so much. A partner at another firm who I knew, but really hadn't stayed in touch with after having Sadie, ran into me after I moved to my part-time counsel role at my current job. "I was really surprised when I heard you left the partner role," she said to me. "You never seemed the type of woman who would give that up voluntarily... I think you will have it back in no time," she laughed.
Sometimes I wonder if Sadie will know me as a mom who had character, and spine, and independence when a lot of days now, I would rather be at the Song Fest than anywhere else. Yesterday she just saw a woman standing on her chair trying to get the perfect picture while tears were swimming in her eyes. I am just so grateful for this kid. I am so grateful to go through life as her mother, to have some afternoons and most every evening to talk with her, explain things, engage in debates, read to her, laugh with her, lay with her, listen to her. I am so grateful to be the person that she reaches for, that she waves to when she leaves, that she runs to when I come home. She is at such a fun age, going through such a great stage. I honestly can't get enough of it.
Will she grow up suffocated by this love? I hope not. Will I become the dreaded helicopter parent that wants to be present at every occasion? I hope not. But for now, I can't stop feeling blessed. I can't stop feeling like God gave me this tremendous gift to be her parent. And I am so very grateful for it.
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