What a Difference a Day Makes

As I reached for Elise's little hand to fit snugly into mine leaving Bible study this morning, I glanced over as she eagerly accepted, skipping to the time of my step. I smiled back at her, thankful that she still embraces the public affection and declaration that she and I belong together.

Yet each passing day reminds me that she is only "mine" for a time. Soon her days will be filled with full time school, friends, after school activities and boys and you will find my name at the bottom of her priority list. God was really smart when he designed children to grow up slowly, gradually, and over 18 years. Can you imagine us humans weaning our babes and  pushing our babies out of the nest in the first 2 months? It would never happen. Never.

It's also in God's grander plan that the steps are baby ones along the way. Those milestones are God's way of telling us as parents to back down just a bit and allow those same metaphoric baby's wings to stretch to prepare for flight.

Our household is no different than any other with a preschooler living in our midst. She's graduated from the diapers, the crib and high chair -- and most recently her toddler bed. That was my first "aha" moment this year. After spending a week refurbishing old furniture to become her new furniture and creating a "big girl room" she slept in her new room for the first time January 1. Along with the toddler bed, the rocking chair that adorned the room was cast aside.  It didn't seem to "fit" in the scheme of her grown up room.  Though surprising to many, Tony and I still rocked Elise each night, with her taggie blanket firmly in her right hand. The said rocking never lasted more than one minute, maybe up to five if she was feeling particularly needy. I imagine the rocking was more symbolic than practical at this point, still clinging to a routine that was familiar and comforting. When I told her we would have to go into the playroom to use the rocking chair, she said that was OK. She didn't need to be rocked anymore. My heart strings pulled just a little knowing that the last time I had rocked her was, well, the last time.

All these little transitions were going smoothly and I felt surprisingly OK with my little girl suddenly being a bigger girl. It reminded me of Adam several years earlier making those same changes and also being so excited about them. I suppose it's because I was taking all this is stride that it caught me off guard when she announced along with the rocking chair, she no longer needed to sleep with her taggie blanket. "OK, honey. If you say so." I told her several hours before bedtime. I didn't believe her. Her taggie was to her what an imaginary friend or a favorite stuffed animal is to another child. It was a part of her. From early morning until bedtime her taggie was by her side from the time she was old enough to consciously make it part of her day.

It was while Adam was in his second year of preschool that I received this blanket as a gift from his preschool "assistant" Diane. Her mother had lovingly hand made a blanket adorned with tags of different textures, patterns and colors. This was a phenomenon I had known nothing about but has since gained its popularity here in town.  Diane presented it to me and I treasured it in her first year, laying it along side her in the crib. When she grew old enough to choose it as a "lovey" she did. Much to my chagrin, it would follow her all day like a faithful companion. It only left the house to go to the hospital with her when she had rotovirus and was very ill, when she had surgery to remove her adenoid and tonsils, and when we travelled out of town. Otherwise, in the interest of not losing it, it stayed in the house. I even scrap booked a page about her blanket, mentioning the one particular tag that Elise seemed to be drawn to. As far back as we can recall, Elise would turn her blanket around in the dark, searching for the one tag that brought her comfort. She would take that particular tag between her thumb and index finger and stroke it as she fell asleep. On more than one occasion, I would check on her at find her taggie still clutched to her heart.

When she publicly declared her independence of her taggie, I didn't believe my ears. I blew off her warning because I knew better. This was one habit not easily broken. But to my consternation and to our utter shock and amazement, she planted that taggie at the foot of her bed at bedtime and snuggled in to sleep that first night without batting an eye.  And there it stayed, night after night, tucked into the foot board like a discarded toy. Tony and I had more than one conversation that week feeling like we needed to intervene. This was her baby and being a big girl didn't mean she had to give it up. My heart sank. Night after night I would kiss my girl good night and find her taggie in the same position as the night before. No amount of coaxing could convince my independent daughter that it was OK for her to still want her taggie.

The blanket has only moved twice since that time. When her new bedding finally arrived, she placed her taggie on top of the shelf with her well-loved stuffed animals. But when her reconditioned night stand was finished behind the other furniture and placed in her room only two nights ago, she moved her taggie to its final resting place. It sits on the bottom shelf of the night stand, neatly folded. Not used anymore but at least still in view and, in her view, a place of honor.

I guess this is the start of many "aha" moments for me that my little girl is growing up. I guess I don't want to take any experience for granted anymore though. I never realized before what a difference a day makes.