On Growing Up

This weekend we attended a local art fair. It's one that we've been visiting since before my daughter was born and that she attended at only 1 week. When she was three we started letting her pick out her own art work--no questions asked even if we hated it. This is easier said than done--especially when there is a price limit for our family!

Each year this art festival has a children's area where there are activities and kids can make their own crafts and get their faces painted and help with a mural. It's always been something she looks forward to and she was excited before we even got there.

My first hint at her sudden maturity was the piece of artwork she chose. Instead of gravitating towards the whimsical paintings she normally found, she was enthralled with some incredibly interesting mixed media works. No more silly animals and pastel colors. This artist was all about red and black and shadows. There were animals in her artwork, but they were strange, a little edgy.

The artist's work in no way upset me, but I found myself wanting to tell her no. Maybe she should try the same artist she bought from a few years ago. There were flying elephants there! My desire to steer her towards something else wasn't about the artist's work, but about what my daughter's love of this piece of art meant. A teenage girl wearing black leather, with her hair pulled up messy and her arms thrust into her pockets. In the background, blood red furniture and black accented walls, a red phone booth, and two corgis eyeing the girl suspiciously. It was just such a grown up choice for my sweet little girl.

The second hint, which wasn't really a hint, but a heart crushing in-your-face sign, came when we arrived at the children's area. My nine year old went from one tent to the next, looking at the options and hovering here and there. Sometimes she gets anxious talking to strangers, so I went over to ask her if she wanted to do any of the activities. She buried her head in my side and shook her head as she gulped in a little air.

When we stepped away, I asked her if she wanted to do anything else: the mural, the face painting, create a banner for the new baby monkey at the zoo. Her eyes got watery and in a tiny voice, that reminded me of the little girl still inside her, whispered, "Mom. These are for little kids."

It was then that I realized that she knew she wasn't the little kid anymore. My sweet girl is starting to realize that she's growing up.

And it broke my heart. Not just because she's growing up, but because she seemed so sad to step away from it. To leave behind the things she used to love, knowing that they weren't for her anymore.

And where does my kid, my 9 year old, fit in on the kid level. Because she is still just a kid. She will be for a while. And she's a pretty lucky kid who doesn't have adversity thrown at her just yet. But this age, this 9-12 year old age is so rocky. There is so much growing up to do and so much changing that will come. I think this first look at the changes to come were a lot for my daughter. She'll move on, though. She already has, the new artwork hanging right in the middle of a collection of animals in pastels and greys. It's a sign of the growth and learning that will be happening in our house in the following years as she figures out who she and how to represent that. I just hope to give her a safe place to explore and figure that all out.