My eldest child turns 18 today. It is a strange, momentous occasion for the both of us. Last night when I was talking to her I said, “It’s not every day that a person turns 18!” and she countered with, “Well, in fact it IS everyday that people turn 18.” Of course I meant that it was not every day that SHE turned 18 or that one of my children turned 18, but she had a bit more of a global perspective on things. Regardless, neither one of us can ignore that this one is a very big deal.
When a parent holds that tiny baby in her arms, it is hard to truly imagine that they will ever be adults—we might fantasize about it or imagine what they might be like, but there are so many details between birth and adulthood that need to be tended to that it is easy to put it out of one’s mind. When I look at my daughter today, there is a part of me that is flooded with memories of that baby, that little girl, first days of school, soccer goals and softball games, etc. but there is another part of me that sees that she is absolutely 18 and exactly where she should be. She’s perfect.
We’ve been through all sorts of tugs and arguments and clinging—she will probably never be as tidy as her mother or do chores with such diligence, she has completely different career aspirations and likes very different music than I ever have. There are times, however, when she will do a fine impersonation of me with things she says or a look that comes across her face. I think that I have been changed and affected possibly more by her presence in my life than she has been influenced by me. I am more broad-minded and culturally aware because of her challenging my “provincial thinking” as she has for years. I have learned how to communicate with and accept a close relationship with someone completely different than me—bonding, letting go, giving in, and finding new ways of connecting as she steps into adulthood.
I know that for many of us parents, 18 still seems pretty darn young. She still has a few weeks to go in high school, for goodness sake! But, I remember my own 18th birthday and my own 18th year and I know that I thought I was grown-up and ready to be independent, and for all practical (and impractical) purposes, I was. She can vote, she can drive, she has chosen a college and a major on her own; she has her own interests, friends, passions, goals and choices. I’m not sure how we got this far so quickly, but I think we’ve both done a fine job.
Also: My Teenage Wedding Experience
Make Birthdays Fun with Traditions