Truths: It Really Does Go Fast

Yesterday, I was doing laundry. I hate laundry. I hate nearly everything about it. I hate sorting it. I hate putting it in the washer. I hate transferring it to the dryer. I hate hanging up all the things that I don’t want to shrink.

I hate folding the laundry and putting it away. And, I really hate matching the socks! Which we all know never get matched 100%. There are always orphaned socks – always.

So, that being said… I was doing my daughter’s laundry. And, I was hit with a revelation.

No longer was I folding little onesies, cute pink dresses in gingham, or socks so small they would only fit my pinky.

I was folding clothes – t-shirts that I would wear. (No, they would not fit me but I would wear them if they did). There were hip jeans and funky sweatshirts. Name brands like Gap, Hollister, Aeropastle, etc… No more Kmart, Walmart, Target.

Clothes matter now.

But, as I was folding all of these cool clothes – it hit me. It certainly does not seem like that much time has passed since I was scrubbing out formula from a brand new Gymboree outfit. It seems like yesterday, I was using Dreft detergent and washing all of the new clothes before my daughter ever wore them.

Where did all of that time go?

All of those days, months, years that I longed to be passed the many frustrating stages of growing up. Anxiously waiting until she would sleep through the night, when she would sit-up, when she would crawl, when she would walk, when she would drink from a sippee cup, when she could feed herself, when she would be potty-trained, when she would go to pre-school so I could have a break, when she would start Kindergarten, when she would dress herself… always waiting for what was next and sadly, never really taking time to enjoy what she was already doing.

Now, I am folding these clothes and wondering where my baby went.

She came home from school yesterday and told me, “Mom, next week we have the ‘talk’ and ‘THE movie.”

Yes, gone are the diapers and here come the feminine hygiene products. Where the Hell did all that time go?

Last Sunday, after seeing my daughter flounder with reading – we went to Amazon and searched for some books. Abby has always had a hard time finding a series that she enjoyed. Okay, the truth is – she doesn’t really like to read. And, we have been desperate to find some author who would finally hold her attention and inspire her to read.

My last ditch effort was Judy Blume so I ordered “Are You There God? It Is Me Margaret.”

Yes, I have my own selfish reasons for this – I am hoping it will spark “that” conversation. A segue to all those things no one really wants to address… And, okay, a part of me, hopes the book will teach her everything she needs to know and I can just bow out of the whole thing.

Yes, at 39 years old, I am very uncomfortable having that talk. My mom never had it with me and I don’t know what to say.

I should know what to say – because I was a teenager who participated in things that I shouldn’t have… I am not naïve to the realities of junior high and high school. And, I really wish that I would have had a more open relationship with my mom.

But it is hard… It is hard to realize that Abby isn’t wearing onesies anymore, that she isn’t just potty trained and walking – she is about to enter puberty – she is about to go to 6th grade where boyfriends and kissing take place.

There are going to be notes passed and texting and school dances. She is going to like a boy who won’t like her back and her heart will break many times. She is going to question herself and her beliefs and she is going to make decisions that could change her life forever.

Maybe that is why the conversation is so difficult because it feels like there is so much riding on what I say or don’t say. How much is too much? How little is too little? How much is about abstinence and how much is on protection? How stern should I be – and how open should I be so that she is comfortable coming to me for help?

Right now, she seems so immature, so naïve… realizing that in just 6 months when she goes to Jr. High she will be overwhelmed by issues that she never dreamt of – is gut wrenching.

For the first time, I am not anxious to see her advance to the next stage of growing up.

As I folded the last shirt and brought the laundry to her room – decorated with stuffed animals and a tree mural – I lost my breath.

Looking at the new comforter and accessories piled in bags in the corner for her “new” room, I realize change is coming…whether I want it to or not.