On my birthday this year I had a bit of a realization. I looked down at my plate, at the Death Star shaped waffle, the Minecraft themed adoption mug, my Star Wars t-shirt, my necklace with a bear on it and the word “Mama.” I had a deep sense that my five-year-old self would be nothing but proud of this version of me. Whatever I thought birthdays in my mid-thirties might be like, they have ended up being mostly confirmations that my life has been on a steady trajectory toward kids and writing and nerd life and church and reading and friends and music. All the same things I loved when I was five.
But there was this weird period. There was this time when I didn’t know where that trajectory was heading. From about ages 11-21 things seemed kind of confusing. I was an opinionated and ambitious woman. Maybe I wasn’t going to be married? I loved school and looked forward to a career. Maybe I wasn’t going to have kids? I loved to write, but hated having to be alone to do it. Maybe I needed to let go of writing in order to pursue more “team” oriented work. I played around with ideas of my future that went in every different direction from lawyer to therapist to special education teacher to florist.
And yet, here I am. Pretty much exactly the person I hoped I’d be back when I was a kindergartener.
I know it doesn’t play out that way for everybody, but I think there are a surprising number of us that can see that path in our life. We still resonate with the dreams and desires of our little kid self. We can recognize now that even in our younger years, we were built for something that we’re still discovering. We had an internal confidence about who we were and what we wanted out of life, then we wandered in the dark for a bit trying on different identities, and we eventually ended up back where we started.
I’ve been thinking about this pattern a lot as I watch my kids march into the tween years.
I knew these kids when they were five. I could see their gifts and passions. But something is changing as they get older. They feel the push and pull of friendships and what it means to be “cool” and they are adjusting accordingly. Not in ways that seem unsafe or immoral, but in ways that make it easier to fade into the background when I used to watch them jockey for position upfront or pushing their way to the head of the line when they used to be content in the back. I can hear their changing voices and changing opinions and think, “Who even are these kids?” But they aren’t any different than I was at that age— grasping for meaning and identity in a uncertain world.
I loved who my kids were at age five. I love who they are now and who I am watching them become. But as I see them struggle through these years, I want to remind myself that who they are today may not be who they are tomorrow. This is a transitional phase of their life, made for imagining all the possibilities. They may entertain ideas I find inconsistent with who they have been. They may try on different identities to see how they fit and how they feel. I may find myself confused or frustrated at their choices.
That’s when I need to remind myself that they may be making their way back to the certainty and passion of their younger years, it may just take some time. It may not be until those birthdays in their mid thirties that they realize they have come full circle.
I’m thankful for the development I did during those intervening years. I’m glad I tried on those different identities, both because they were fun for the moment and because I got to figure out that they weren’t what truly brought me joy. I want my kids to experience the world and feel free to explore aspects of their personality and hobbies and interests that excite them. But I want them to feel free to come back to center, to return to who they were made to be with all the wisdom and experience they gained during their wandering years. And I want to be supporting them, encouraging them, and guiding them all the way.
Because that’s the kind of mom my five-year-old self knew I could be.
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