letting go.....

My daughter is almost three...like less than a month away almost three. It's crazy unreal and I'm pretty sure someone time warped us because just last night I was snuggling a six pound, round, little butterball against me while she slept soundly making sweet newborn noises. But what am I going to do? Ask who time warped us and tell them to fix it? People already think I'm crazy as I buckle imaginary things into the back of my car and tell pig to obey while we are at the store. The time warp questions would definitely get me sent away for good.

So instead I try to embrace this upcoming title change from 'toddler' to 'preschooler'. In so doing I am trying to encourage some more independence. This my friends has caused me to have to keep my face from physically contorting in pain while Abigail is watching.
Our first new skill we are working on is making her own bed. It's actually somewhat difficult because the blankets go between the mattress and her bed frame. When she gets done she proudly announces, 'Mama I diyit!' Oh, and she did do it. Never mind the fact that the sheet is still folded in half under the comforter, the comforter is on at an angle, and there is not once smooth place on the whole damn bed. She did it herself and I'm proudly smiling through the urge to pull all the blankets off and redo it.
There are many other things that are painful for me to watch or have to wait for. I am a firm believer in letting kids do things themselves. Nothing has to be perfect, they will get better with time. This belief really applies more to other people though who are asking for advice. Instead I am filled with the desire to make things not look like they were done by a three year old. I must let go. Sometimes I will not get to leave the exact moment I wanted to because Abigail wants to put her shoes on herself. Other days I get Abigail's hair just so and she tells me she would like to wear a headband as well. So I sigh and remember that it's just hair, and she is learning about who she is, and trying to live that.
And for the first time ever today I let Abigail completely pick out her outfit (well almost completely. She picked out a vest and I did not let her wear it with nothing underneath like she wanted. She also picked out her bike helmet, but it was not allowed to be worn either). I usually lay out a few pair of shorts and then when she picks one, choose a few shirts that would match. I know though that she is old enough to make these choices when it doesn't matter. So she chose her outfit. We went grocery shopping in it. She ran happily along in the store yelling for pig and elephant to 'get back hew.' I kept my head up and smiled at the by passers who were gawking at our family didn't even notice us and just kept reminding myself that I was teaching my daughter that she is allowed to be her own person. She doesn't have to match, be in style, or impress others with her clothing. All she has to do is continue to be her really awesome self and people will like her. I still do. And wouldn't you know she still got told how cute she was tonight. Without further ado, a picture of her outfit sans accessories...

Added to this look were some flamingo pink socks, bright pink patent leather mary janes (which Abigail refers to as her 'shiny shoes') and a purple and white flowered hat. If you are wondering if there might be a though process in these pants and shirt 'matching,' there is not. 'I yike dese pants wif da fwowers. I yike dis best wif da snowfwakes yike winter.' Yes her goal is not to match at this point, but to wear as many things that she likes as possible all at the same time. And my goal is to continue to allow her to be who she is.



Letting go,