January 2017 - Recap

My sweet eight-year-old,
You decided this month that you were going to learn how to roller skate. We went to the local skating rink before Christmas with some friends and you managed to stomp and inch your way around the rink a few times but there was very little actual gliding (in other words, very little actual skating) going on.

So Daddy walked with you up and down the driveway as you slowly got your balance. And once school started back up, you used the incentive of skating afterwards to focus on school (and not daydream about unicorns and rainbows - ahem).

The first day of skating lessons, you and I were a hot mess. You spent more time on your rear than on your feet, despite my attempts at holding you up (#momfail). It happened to be trash day that day and the trash collectors had a good time watching us go (fall) up and down our street. We considered it our good deed for the day.

The second day didn't see much improvement. But by the third day, you insisted I let go of your hand while we were in the driveway. And suddenly it felt like you were 18 and leaving for college.

Never in my eight years of being your momma have I been overly concerned about you getting hurt. I figured a broken arm or a twisted ankle is a part of growing up. In fact, you and I often talk about what color you want your first cast to be. See? I just don't think a broken bone is that big of a deal. Now I don't encourage you to be foolish, but I'm not going to discourage you, for instance, from climbing high on the playground equipment for fear you may fall. I will caution you to watch where you put your feet, but I want you to gain confidence in trusting your body to do the awesome things God created it to do. But for some reason, I wasn't prepared to let you go. I didn't want you to get hurt. I didn't want you to grow up and not need my hand. I didn't want any of that. WHERE DID ALL THESE FEELINGS COME FROM?!

You insisted I let go of you and I flat out told you no.

You: Momma, let go!
Me: No way, man! You're not ready to skate on your own!
You: Of course I am! I'm never gonna learn if you keep holding my hand!
Me: I don't have plans to go to the ER today, so I'm not letting your hand go. Sorry.
You: But I won't fall! And even if I do, we've already talked about it - I'm getting a purple cast. It's not that big of a deal, right?
Me: [super annoyed that you used my words against me] Fine.

I let go and you proceed to almost fall about 200 times. And you actually fell about 5 times. And each time I felt my heart leave my body and slam on the ground right beside your fanny.

Fast forward just three short days later and you can skate up the street and back again all by yourself (meaning without holding my hand - I'm still walking beside you). You're slow going and you've got the benefit of the rough asphalt to keep you from going too fast, but you're skating. I'm so proud of you. Seeing your focused face, seeing your determination when each time you fell down you immediately popped back up, and seeing the joy when you figured it out was such an awesome experience for me.

My reaction completely surprised me, and although my heart has finally returned to a normal rhythm, I imagine there will be many more times for my heart to jump out of my chest. But please know my hand is always available for you. You may not need it (or even want it) but it will never not be here for you to hold.

Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy

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• Democrats Fuming Over Supreme Court Nominee Neil Gorsuch Backed Him in 2006
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• Police Use Backhoe to Breach Prison, End Standoff; 1 Dead
• Protests, Violence Prompt UC Berkeley to Cancel Milo Yiannopoulos Event
• Donald and Ivanka Trump Make Unannounced Trip to Honor Fallen SEAL