I was reading this blog post a while ago from daringyoungmom.com and wondered how soon, I too, would have this experience. My girls have been happy to hold my hand but I do remember that eventually holding your mum's hand isn't something you do. Or at least do when your friends might see you. Reaching for your mum's hand in an uninhibited way does end. At least for a while. (I would hold my mum's hand again, but I don't. Both of us usually have our hands full holding little hands when we are together. I think we both prefer it that way).
I remember not wanting to hold my mum's hand but I also remember not wanting her to know that I didn't want to hold her hand (as if she didn't know). And that I would hurt her feelings if I told her. So I used my best stealth. Pointing at something so I had to drop her hand, you know, that sort of thing. And she would have seen right through it. But I remember feeling like such a terrible daughter for not wanting to hold her hand and I don't want any of my children to feel that way.
Anyway, back to my story...
Since the birth of Boy, I have not been able to walk with the girls to school in the morning. I've been lucky to get them out the door on time, but I haven't been able to be ready to go! Or Youngest or Boy haven't been willing to walk to school with me. Paul's been able to be home sometimes in the morning though, since his work schedule has changed. Unfortunately, he isn't able to be around in the mornings much anymore so I am not able to do it much at all right now. Okay, really now back to my story. For real this time.
So, I was able to walk the girls to school on Tuesday 16 April 2013. It was a chilly morning. But I was happy to be out with the girls and enjoying the crisp morning air. Youngest and Boy were at home and so I had two free hands, one for each of them. And we held mittened hands. And laughed and talked. It really is a special time. We held hands to the corner, across the street, past the bus stop and even up the hill. As we got closer and closer to 162 Ave, we were still holding hands. And having so much fun together. And then it happened.
Oldest dropped my hand.
But, remembering how I felt (about 25 years ago), I reassured her it was okay that she didn't want to hold my hand. I put my arm around her in a casual fun way and told her I loved her even if she thought I was embarrassing. She laughed and smiled and I laughed and smiled, too. Because it was okay. I wasn't heart-broken and didn't have my feelings hurt.
I let go. But when she reaches out to hold my hand again, even if it is for a brief moment, I'll hold on awfully tight.
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