
Sunrise, sunset. Swiftly fly the years…
I remember the first year my daughter had swim lessons. She was three, an only child since her brother hadn’t been born yet. I remember taking her to the community pool, holding her hand as we walked through the gate, and then turning her over to her swimming teacher. The pool staff required that parents make a speedy exit, that we deposit our children at poolside and quickly head back to the main building where we could stand and watch at the big windows. Long goodbyes were frowned upon.
For the first time in her young life, I was letting someone outside my family, outside my circle of trusted friends, take care of her. I didn’t know her teacher, a bubbly college student. This young woman was now responsible for keeping my girl safe in the water. I had to surrender. When it was my daughter’s turn to jump from the side of the pool into her teacher’s arms, she did so without hesitation. I was so proud of her. Her world was suddenly bigger, with new people, new experiences. It was exactly right, exactly how it was supposed to be, but it also broke my heart a little.
This is the story of parenting, isn’t it? From the very beginning, our children are supposed to move away from us. We carefully snuggle them in the Baby Bjorn carrier backwards, then are surprised, but happy for them, when one day they are suddenly big enough to face forward, to see more of the world. Soon, they grow out of the carriers all together. That was another parenting milestone for me: the day my children were too big to fit in the Baby Bjorn anymore. Part of me would’ve kept them there forever. But they would have none of it. Soon, they were walking and running. By the time they were in kindergarten, both my kids could run faster than me. Continue Reading…







