PMSing or Something

 As we were walking the other day, Isa slipped her hand into mine.  I was momentarily taken aback.  Not by the gesture, but by the sensation.  Her hand filled mine. It had been a while since I had taken her by the hand and in that time, she grew up.  This was no longer a child’s hand. Surprised, I looked at her and felt a pull in my heart.  There she was. An inch taller than me, walking next to me- her stride matching mine. 

When did this happen?

I remember a specific moment, years ago that elicited this same type of pang. Each night, I would put her to bed while Rebeca took care of Maya. Isa was around 3 years old and a constant chatterbox/dreamer/questioner/diva. I remember lying next to her in her bed- almost falling asleep myself. I looked at her. I can still see her tiny face gazing up toward the ceiling, her hands gesturing and softly whispering to herself.

In that moment my heart ached. I imprinted this sight into my brain, wanting to capture this entire scene forever. It was also in this time that I saw my baby growing up.

I am not an outwardly sentimental person. I’m not one to gush or weep over things that have happened in the past. I’m pragmatic and sentiments make me uncomfortable.  Big surprise if you know me. 

But that night, and the other day, and right now as I jot this down- I’m fighting back tears.

Every day I notice her getting older. More grown up. Less and less like my baby.  She’ll be 11 in May and her main goal in life right now is to get a cell phone.  Not happening, but she can dream.

She’s caught between being an emo tween and still wanting to be babied. She walks around with a constant air of indifference until it’s bedtime and she needs snuggles from Mama.  She wants independence and autonomy, but is too scared to boil water on the stove. 

As she’s gotten bigger I find that I hug her less.  I don’t kiss her as often, and I don’t snuggle in her bed.  I’m more reserved when it comes to physical affection and I’m not sure why.

With Maya, it’s easy. She’s tiny and still sounds like an elf. It’s simple to grab her and smother her in kisses and to hold her in my arms.

But with Isa…it’s difficult. Maybe because I’m used to little kids all day and their hugs? But most likely it’s because that’s about the age I was when physical affection stopped for me. Whoa. Lightbulb moment.

Last week, Isa remarked that I don’t hug her anymore. I hadn’t even thought about it, and it didn’t dawn on me that she would notice. Of course I gave her a huge hug, but I was so…sad. Sad that she felt that way. Sad that I had pulled away unconsciously and sad that I was being no better than how I was brought up. 

How do I do better?

Isa and I have an awesome relationship. She is the best and worst of Rebeca, so her ‘tude doesn’t rattle me like it does her Mama. We’re playful and funny to one another. She knows that she can ask me anything and that I will always answer her truthfully- no matter how cringe worthy the question.

But I know I need to do better.

She needs those hugs and kisses from both of us. And I need to figure out a way to be that for her.

She may be growing up, but she’ll always remain my baby.