Fine Line

I think that guilt is something that is just a given once a woman becomes a mother. We can't help it.

We feel guilty from the start. We probably didn't start taking prenatal vitamins early enough in the pregnancy. We didn't eat as well as we could have, we didn't exercise as often we we should have, or we exercised too much.

Then we feel guilty if we don't have the birth experience we wanted, hoped for, planned. From there, we feel guilty about how and what we feed our children. We feel guilty that we don't read to them enough, we don't stimulate their little brains enough. We don't get them out of the house enough or we take them out too much.

We're too complacent or we hover too much.

Each new development of our children is another area for guilt to rear its ugly head. We can't help it.

These days? My guilt is over figuring out that fine line between being a 'cool' mom and a 'good' mom.

As Alyssa gets older and starts making friends outside of family, I'm walking that fine line. I'm figuring out my place in her world, as that world expands.

Obviously, I need to stay in her world, stay present, stay firm and remain a big, big part of her decision making. I need to be there, even when I'm not actually there, if that makes sense.

But again, I don't want to embarrass her by being too present, too in her face, too annoying. I want to give her space while still letting her know that I'm there, always available.

I know that the best mothers are not their children's friends. And honestly, I don't need to be my girls' friend. I am their mother, that's enough for me. But I want to always be there, in the periphery, reminding them of the values of this family, the core strength they'll always have from those closest to them.

So I'm walking the line. A fine, fine line.

I don't need to be cool. At least not for me. Honestly, I don't think Alyssa cares so much that I'm cool, I just think that most eight year olds hope their mom's aren't embarrassing. So I drive her to practices, her and her friend. I listen to them talk, interjecting very little. Once we drop the friend off, Alyssa and I talk. Mostly about unimportant things. But sometimes, she'll mention something her friend said and we go from there. I try not to pry while still keeping the door open so she knows I'm always there to listen, to help if she needs it. Or just to lean on when life is a little tougher than her eight year old skin can take.

I think she and I both walk a fine line. Her line is the one between a big girl and my little girl. She's still so very much my little girl, even as she gets bigger and bigger. And so I hold her close, I listen closer and I hug her tighter as we both cling to our lines, hoping we don't lose our balance.