Stretching

I'm pretty tightly wound in a lot of ways. I'm a perfectionist. I'll research any subject within an inch of its life. I relish the minutiae of the obscure . If there's an odd fact to be recalled, I'm your girl. I read a lot and I know a lot of weird stuff.

My daughter, on the other hand, ain't. I've been practicing my deep cleansing mommy breaths lately as BabyGirl worked on her presentation poster for Careers Day tomorrow. I've done my very best to let her lead, with my direction, and she produced a lovely poster on being a meteorologist.

But the pictures were crooked! But a word was misspelled! But she did a drawing that she didn't like in the end so she just scribbled it out! But, but, but!

(Deep cleansing mommy breath.)

But she was happy with it. But she was pleased with her effort and the final result. But she's proud of her work.

And I have to learn better how to be happy with it, too. And to be pleased with her 2nd grade effort and her final result. And to be proud of her work.

It's a real struggle sometimes, as a parent and as a parent by adoption, for me to remember that I am not her and she is not me. I struggle sometimes with letting go of my own expectations appropriate for a 40+ year old professional geek and expectations appropriate for a 7-year old 2nd grader. I'm humbled by the huge growth this little person requires of me. It's good to grow and stretch.

I hope I just don't hyperventilate in the process.