On Monday, Isaac had his first Tae Kwon Do belt test from White Junior to White Senior. In the scheme of things, it was no big deal, but I was so nervous for him, I could hardly watch him as he stood in front of his master teacher, demonstrating what he has learned from him.
He did just fine, and held his own against two 10-year-old boys who were also testing that day:
It made me think, however, of Kahlil Gibran:
On Children
Kahlil GibranYour children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them,
but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
This small test reminded me that from now on, Isaac's successes and defeats will be purely his and his alone. It may have always been that way: Isaac was always ready to move on to the next stage of development much sooner than I was. Why would he want to start walking when I just barely got the hang of mothering a crawler, etc. etc. But now, he is able to choose what inspires him, and choose how much effort he is willing to put into it. His life really is his own, and my job will be merely to provide him the appropriate amount of help and encouragement.
Emi, not so much; we've had to coax her through many doorways to get to where a 3.5-year-old should be, although she has always had to work harder than Isaac to achieve the same things: walking, talking, potty training. But she is already pushing away from me, defying things that were once sacred. For example, two days ago, she asked for bacon and pancakes on a school day, which EVERYONE knows can't happen because there simply isn't enough time for that, right? Okay, maybe that's more of a Me rule than a universal Mom rule, but it's one I hold dear. She got cereal instead, and she wasn't happy about it one bit. I may have won that round, but she will soon figure out how to win the match. She's building up her sense of self, a self that is separate from mom and dad.
It is a bittersweet realization, to see that I'm important but not that important. It just shows you how lopsided parenting is: my world revolves around them, but theirs does not revolve around mine. It foreshadows a million times my heart will break, having to let them go over and over again when they ask for it, all the while yearning to keep them close for fear of losing my own direction.
It is also difficult to simply release control, especially when I myself was raised in a very controlled environment. The less I control their lives, the less my children will need me. And if they need me less, will they still want me around? If all their future achievements have nothing to do with me, what will I have achieved? And if I let them go, when will they come back?
