Swingin' With It

"Mommy!  You don't need to push me!"  

"What?"

She ran to the swing.  

Pure pride in her stride.  

And there she went.  

Hopped on and used her two feet on the ground to get herself going.  

In what seemed like an instant, she was swinging as high as if I had given her a hefty push and tickled her back saying, "not so high!"

I looked on with pure astonishment.  For me, this was as big as her first steps (if you can compare such a thing.)  I have been pushing her since she was six months old (and this little one has always adored the swing so that is a lot of pushes!)

I clapped and cheered as my mind raced back to grasp . . ., "it's gone!  The time of pushing Francesca is gone."  Outwardly, I exclaimed, "what am I supposed to do now?  I am out of a job!"  Francesca laughed as she does when I say this and went right on swinging with joy!

At least twice a day I yearn for Francesca's independence: do you really need me to come to the bathroom with you?;  Sit with you while you get dressed?;  You are almost 5!  I am teaching her to butter her own toast and cut with scissors.  But I was not prepared for this swinging-on-her-own business.  And that is the thing about motherhood; our frustrations are also our joys: our letting go is also our holding on.  And rarely do we have a say; more and more people will teach the girls things that I know nothing about and they will come running, exclaiming their success; their independence . . .that for which we wished.  

I held out my hand to Francesca as we walked to the car.  I breathed a sigh of gratitude as she took my hand.  I made darn sure to pause right there; feeling her hand in mine knowing full well that someday, without any warning at all, she will no longer take it.