It’s official, she’s a giant. She’s outgrown her entire wardrobe and now I don’t know what to do. I bought these bathing suits for her five months ago and now she can’t put them on without them giving her an extreme wedgie. Side note: this is why the two piece suits are good – getting taller does not necessarily translate to instant wedgie.
I suppose I shouldn’t complain. She’s closing in on eight years old and she’s been wearing a size six for a solid year.
It’s just kind of shocking.
There are two large shopping bags hiding in the back corner of my closet. And I have an almost daily argument with Mayhem about leaving them alone. She insists she can still wear many of the items, while I argue that regular tops are not meant to simply evolve into crop tops. The logical me knows that I should simply drop off the old clothes at one of the local donation centers. It would be the quickest way to end the daily struggle. But it’s pretty obvious that sentimental me is driving the bus, while logical me is somewhere in the back.
Let’s face it though, it’s not about the clothes. It’s me trying to wrap my brain around this ‘new’ not-so-little person and who she’s becoming.
She used to need me for stuff, and while she still needs me, it’s less and less everyday.
Now, she reads to herself. Like, actual chapter books. And sometimes, I just sit and watch her. Logical me would be happy dancing my way to the couch to read a book of my own choosing, but sentimental me sits there and stares.
She’s evolving, and I love it. But I hate it too.
She’s hitting slices and drop shots and learning when to hit down the line in tennis. She’s sitting at her desk, crayons at hand, creating the most amazing drawings. She’s measuring, cutting and sewing an apron, without a pattern. She’s in the garage making batch after batch after batch of glittery slime.
All without my help.
And I watch and wonder. Where do I go from here? For the past (nearly) eight years, I’ve been Mayhem’s mama. She was my sidekick and I was hers. I know I’m still her mama, but all of the sudden, I feel lost.
If you need me, I’ll be in that dark corner of my closet, burying my head in those shopping bags, breathing in the smell of the past eight years.