Absurd Grace

 Girlchild and I spent a good deal of time together one on one this weekend.  The little woman she’s growing into amazes me.  Half the time she makes me bonkers because she’s not me.  And that, I think is totally an Aries characteristic because clearly *I* have taken it upon myself to be whom I want to be.

She’s not a little mini-me, is what I’m saying.  She’s growing up with two different mommies, in two different homes, with two different parenting styles, sets of priorities, and sets of values.

I am a tomboy. Not afraid of snakes or lizards or worms or spiders.  Maybe I was when I was much younger, but quickly outgrew that.

I am a tough chick.  Don’t need anyone or anything.  I can carry five full bags of groceries in from the car, by myself.  I know how to jump start my car. For that matter, I can change the oil.  Not that I would do that, what with there being a man around and such, but I can do it.

These things are not Girlchild.  She thinks it’s cute to act dumb and she giggles hysterically while trying to play coy.  Bonkers, I say.

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Yet still, she is growing into her own little person.  She’s learning what she stands for and what’s important to her.  And while parenting involves a whole lot of teaching kids your own values, it also involves watching them come into their own person.

And though it is difficult for the short people to go back and forth between our house and their other mom’s, I think they’re being given the added benefit of flexibility and exposure to two or three different thought processes, making them more fluent with their own personal good judgment.  It may be confusing, but they are learning from a young age to use discretion and that there isn’t only one solid truth for everything.

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We pulled up the grass along the strip of lawn that borders the steps up to our house.

Soon, creeping thyme and Cerastium tomentosum (snow in summer) will grow in place of the wickedly slow-to-thrive clumps of grass.

And in Girlchild, the understanding of what to do with caterpillars, millipedes, and spiders has been planted.

When a bee landed upon her, she panicked.  I calmed her down and explained that bees, much like most creatures, respond negatively to fear.  So, be calm.  Gently move the bee away from you using something harmless, like a piece of paper.

And we discussed the things she can do to keep herself safe when she’s alone.  Not just safe from the insects, but in this world.  Because it’s a big world out there, and while I don’t want her to be afraid, I do need her to be aware.  You can’t trust everyone, and you can’t allow yourself to fall into a situation where you don’t have an exit strategy.  But while you’re with the grown ups who are looking after you, you’re safe.

But you still have to always look both ways before you cross the street.

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And while I was busy teaching her, she was busy showing me that she can hang with the grown ups.  In fact, she talks like a little adult.  Every few hours, a light would gleam from within her, and she would say something that made me laugh or surprised me with the gravity of its insightfulness.

This weekend I planted a flower garden.  But I suspect I also planted some soul seeds.

And though I often feel like she’s terribly unlike me, I understand now what my parents meant when they said that, when I was little, I talked like I was an adult.