Worry Wort

Raising a girl is wrought with hidden emotion. At least for me, the over-thinker.

Faith and I are very similar. In turn, I treat her similarly to the way my mom treated me. This is mostly good except in the TMI category. Don’t get me wrong, my mom wasn’t my “friend” until I was old enough for that to be good parenting. But, as a widow with a kid still not in school, she and I were traveling companions for a while and I was overly inquisitive about her life. Because it was her nature to be honest, or because I acted like a little adult, or because she was trying to protect me, or maybe she was just too worn down to think it through, she was very forthcoming with details in response to my many questions. The result-way too much realism for a child’s mind.

I find myself doing the same thing with Faith. When Faith has an issue she needs to deal with, I discuss it in grown up terms. I fear that she will be able to use information to navigate life choices well into her 30’s based on conversations we’ve had in Kindergarten. I don’t know why, but whenever she speaks I feel compelled to prepare her for what may (or may not!) lie ahead.

I think this is bad. I loved my mom. We had a great relationship and in no way am I pulling the “if it weren’t for my parents I’d be much more…” card. That said, I didn’t like being so grown up and pragmatic so early in life.

I want my kids to be dreamers. I want them to pursue the life they love even if it means falling on their face. I have learned-late in life-that this is a far better approach than not trying at all.
I don’t want my girl to be grown up before she has to grow up.
I am afraid I don’t know any other way.