When did I give you permission to grow up?

My baby girl went to prom with a very good friend over the weekend.  I kept looking at her and thinking, “Who told you it was ok to grow up?” I also kept thinking how weird it was for a girl I still see as 7 years old to be getting a fancy dress, girl hair, and a beautiful corsage with red roses. Obviously, she’s not 7 anymore.  As she reminded me, more than once over the weekend, she’s a month shy of 16.  I sometimes struggle with that.  Especially this time of year.

My Lynnie is my visual representation of how time didn’t stand still after my mama was killed.  Not that Aaron didn’t grow and change, but I see glimpses of Mama in Alynne.  Things I wish she could see.    Aaron has lots of good times locked in his brain.  He will sometimes remember things, and we’ll talk about it.  It’s different with Alynne. She wasn’t quite 3 when her Grammie went to Jesus.  She barely remembers anything about her. I wish she could.

It’s weird being the mom of this teenaged girl.  I don’t think she fits the mold very well.  Yes, there are a million giggles.  She denies every one of them, though.  She has a bit of friend drama, but not nearly the amount I remember.  She is so very opinionated, and that makes her rough around the edges.  For someone who is a self-proclaimed “people hater”, she’s got friends everywhere we go.  She’s clever, funny, sarcastic, and a bit rude occasionally.  We are constantly working on her filter.  She has little time for people who have a victim complex or repeat the same “dumb stuff” again and again.  She has a huge heart for those who are hurting and babies.  She has the most eclectic group of friends, and I adore them.  She is constantly bruised, scraped, and in need of an advil and an ice bag.  She wears her bruises proudly.  She’s earned them.  She has some amazing adults in her corner, and a cat who tolerates her.  Her brothers (by blood and Duncan) are proud of her and love her fiercely.  Her daddy wishes she’d clean up her words sometimes and get her English assignment turned in.

I love my girl and her ferocity.  I wish I had the confidence she does.  She knows who she is, mostly.  Sometimes struggles with expectations and gets hurt by those around her.  Despite the fact that she might punch you, she is sensitive.  She feels like she is forever having to prove herself and mostly falling a bit short.  Despite that, she gets up and tries again.  I adore her for that.  You can never count her out. Her life isn’t normal, nor will it be.  With chronic diseases, and armpit abscesses, she’s go to look at the world a little differently.  She does, and she’s fine with that.  She’s adapted and rolls with it.  Just not in a room full of balloons.  She’s full of surprises.

I didn’t tell her she could grow up, and it’s been a wild ride.  It’s hard watching her become a young woman sometimes.  I’d love to call Mama and tell her all about the girl her wild child granddaughter has become.  Tears will sometimes come to my eyes as I think of how much my two favorite girls have missed together.  Even with all of that, I am so proud to be her mama.

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One thought on “When did I give you permission to grow up?

  1. What a great prom picture!!…And of course I know that guy!…And I loved this story about your little girl!!!.. And you are a great storyteller…And sure your mama is so proud of both of her girls!,

    Like

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