Growing Up

I find it interesting that no matter how old you actually are, your kids determine how old you feel.  I started fairly young, having Hannah at age 21.  Just yesterday she was my one and only, my blue-eyed, curly-haired blondie-- my sassy smart three year old. . .

Today she seems all grown up. . . and I feel sort of old, and amazed to have such a helpful young lady that is maturing and becoming more responsible each day.  Sometimes I can't believe she is nearly eleven and some days I forget that she is just a kid, and it is okay that she is acting like one.

She starts middle school next week and I think she is only half as nervous as I am.  Sixth grade seems so young to be in middle school, and she is the youngest in her class.  I took her to orientation yesterday and was amazed at the array of children.  Some looked like fourth graders. . . some looked like ninth graders!  I am glad that Hannah still would rather play with the boys instead of sit around giggling and talking ABOUT the boys.  It eases my nerves ever so slightly.

However, the "skater girl," as she calls herself, has made one leap this year.  Where last year she hardly cared if her hair was clean, or if she'd worn that shirt the day before, she suddenly is concerned about her appearance.  Though she still wants to stick with the "skater/tomboy" look, she is putting more thought into how she puts her outfits together.  Her "image" is no longer just a reflection she sees in the mirror when she brushes her teeth in the morning, it is something to carefully consider.

Which is why I was not too shocked when she asked if she could get a hair appointment at my salon before orientation so she could make a good impression and get a good picture for her student body card.  Of course I jumped at the idea.   We even scheduled it for the day of orientation so she could get it styled.

Luckily she loved it.

I hate that she is growing up. . . I love that she is growing up.  Either way she makes me proud to be her mother.