"You heard me tell her we had a long drive home and she needed to use the potty. You heard her tell me she was scared the toilet would flush while she was sitting on it."
“This is the story of a little girl’s love of a green dress, a mother who tries to instill independence, and how those two things came together in the most epic and brilliant combination possible."
"I don’t remember how sometimes you got angry or cried or had to walk out of the room to take a breath. I don’t remember a schedule, a checklist or any expectations other than just you."
"I will always hold onto the memories. Of the little girl who wore the little clothes. The one who laughed and cried without abandon. The one who never hesitated to wrap her arms around my waist. I will always hold onto that little girl, even when there’s a big girl wrapped in my embrace."
My girl is now the one leaving. And it’s been years since little toes lined up where I now stand, the small fingers that clung to lovies to comfort them as I left.
I’ve watched parents go crazy with enthusiasm when a kid does well. I’ve also seen them go stone cold silent when things take a turn for the worse. That silence speaks volumes into the heart of a child. As a result, kids grow up desperately chasing applause, and that usually gets twisted into a fragile, warped sense of self-worth.
My boys (14 and 10) can confidently navigate self-checkout, withdraw cash from an ATM, pump gas, make phone calls with confidence, order groceries, manage an Excel budget, order an Uber, etc. because I refuse to send them into the workforce without basic skills."
