As Jane is ten today I realize that Mr G and I have had ten perfect years.
For ten years we have been perfect parents. Perfectly awful. Not every day, but there’s a learning curve and dear sweet Jane is our first experiment. We’ve made a few mistakes, but rest assured we’ve breezily blamed it on our own parents as they were the ones to err first.
Jane took us from our adolescence and moved us into adulthood. Although planned, nothing could have prepared us for Jane’s entry into our lives.
Nothing about parenting Jane has been particularly difficult expect remembering that she’s not my friend. She’s my daughter, and when I look at her I see perfection. I see a strikingly beautiful and charming girl who is funny and bright and self effacing at just the moment you might think she’s full of herself. She’s talented and athletic, insightful and kind. Jane is a good friend to all and just the person I’d pick to live with.
But my job isn’t to sing her praises. My job is to uplift her and to help her realize her full potential. My job is to give her independence, to let her cross the street and to allow her to stay home alone for a few moments. My job is to guide her on her schoolwork but not to do it for her. My job as her mother is to set her up for success and let the success be hers, not to do things for her.
My job is difficult.
My daughter is not.
Today I don’t have to be in Mom Mode. Today I get to bake a cake, BBQ some ribs (again, I know) and hold Jane’s hand while we have an easy afternoon.
Today I’ll enjoy my daughter wholly, as she is so very enjoyable.
Happy Birthday Jane. If I’d have really known how to dream 10 years ago I’d have dreamt you up. My dreams were just never this grand.