Give her the freedom
To roam, fall, pick herself up
And watch strength blossom.
………………………………..
Today I dropped my 9-year-old daughter, AP, off early for a day trip through school. They were taking a bus up to the Center of Science and Industry in Columbus. She was beside herself… kept going on and on about the fancy bus with the plush seats, TV and bathroom. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that the bathroom would have a smell unlike any other and really should be avoided or that she would discover that the nauseating bus fumes somehow clung inside your nose for days… She was just too excited at the prospects and the sheer adventure of it all — I didn’t want to spoil it.

Lately I’ve been sitting back watching AP blossom. I haven’t done many posts about my girl – somehow her 5-year-old brother with his public displays of boy part interest and dino obsessions make for more entertaining posts. But I am equally in awe of her.  There is something remarkable about witnessing her little moments of graceful resilience or the spurts of insightful humor that have taken me by surprise lately. I can hardly believe I’m managing to raise such a creature.

My favorite recent example centered on bike riding, an event I did not witness but heard about.  AP hasn’t taken to bike riding on two wheels. Although she accomplished this briefly 2+ years ago, she was almost immediately discouraged by an unexpected and somewhat scary fall (nothing major technically speaking, but emotionally shattering). Since then, she has made a few feeble attempts but her heart hasn’t been in it.

So a few weeks ago, when I got home, imagine my surprise when both kids rushed to meet me, overflowing with stories of 2-wheel triumph.  With dinner cooling on the table, they quickly helmet-ed up and demonstrated.  There were choruses of woo-hoos and fists pumps.  It was a glorious close of day for all.

And then I got the whole story.  Seems that earlier that afternoon, my boy insisted Frank take his training wheels off. A few wobbly pushes later and he had all but mastered two wheels, breezily peddling down our long driveway, dismounting, and waiting to be pushed off again. When AP realized her little brother had done it, succeeded where she had not yet, she was in fits of tears. “Really torn up,” according to her dad. But then she pulled it together, got on her bike, and made it work. Before I knew about her getting upset, I commented how impressed I was that she didn’t let his success bother her, which led her to confess that it did.  “I was really upset and cried a lot.  But then I got on the bike and just kept chanting to myself ‘if my stupid little brother can do this, so can I… if my stupid little brother can do this, so can I.’ And so I did. ” I laughed out loud. Grace under pressure. Resilience defined. I beamed at her.

I want her to be successful in all that she does – what parent doesn’t? But I’m realizing more and more how important the losses are.  That’s where she learns to shine. I’m as proud she learned how to channel her “pissed-off-ness” into some much-needed self-butt-kicking as I would be if she had easily mastered this years ago. Maybe a little more proud, because with age comes the self-awareness of defeat and the pinch of shame, both of which stop many of us cold more often than we care to admit. The sooner she learns how to work her way through that, relying on her own self, the more successful she will be.

So here’s to resilience. Here’s to using humor and stupid little brothers to motivate in times of need. And here’s to little girls blooming, teaching their moms by example, everyday.