Miss Independent

"Good morning, sweetheart. Let mommy take off your jammies and change your diaper."

"No mommy; A do it."

"Let me comb your hair."

"No mommy; A do it."

I stand back and watch A do it the exact opposite of how Mommy would do it. Her hair is now sticking straight up from being combed backwards, and she is still wearing her pajamas and wet diaper. We get to the stairs, and my daughter lifts her arms. "Hold you mommy." It seems the only things A doesn't want to do are walk and use the big girl potty. We've not even made it to the breakfast table, and I've heard her sweet voice say, "A do it" about ten times.

When my little girl was an infant, describing her with the word needy would be an understatment. I could barely leave her side for seconds without her exploding into a powerful cry. Any babysitting offers normally lasted about five minutes before I was called by a panicky voice telling me that A could not be consoled. I remember longing for the day that she would become just a little more independent.

That day came too fast. Just last week, our little girl joyously received her big girl bed, and I wistfully wondered where my baby had gone. Her daily chorus of "A do it" reminds me of just how quickly she is growing into the big girl she so longs to become. (Apparently in her mind, though, big girls wear diapers.) Her independent will and lack of mastery in many of those do-it-yourself skills lead to daily battles. She's demanding to do it on her terms, while I still want to do it on mine. And truth be told, maybe I'm not quite ready to let go of some of those tasks that I find so endearing, like picking out her outfit for the day, brushing her hair, and putting on her little socks. Plus, it goes much more smoothly and quickly when "Mommy do it." But just like it's A 's job to grow up; it is my job to allow her to do just that.

Dorothy Fisher wisely said, "A mother is not a person to lean on, but a person to make leaning unnecessary." I'm not sure who Ms. Fisher is, but she beautifully summed up the purpose of parenting in one succinct sentence. How hard, though, is it not to encourage our children to lean, when we as mothers are born nurturers. I struggle to allow A to try things on her own and learn more about her world on her terms; it means that she needs me less and less. Yet, I understand the importance of my job as the one who makes leaning unnecessary, and just as hairbrushing and shoe tying are important roles, so is being the one who teaches A how to do it successfully on her own. That only comes by allowing her to no matter how inconvenient it may be at times.

T, A, and I are watching the Olympics and eating chocolate chip cookies, when A gets up from her spot and walks over to her daddy. She takes his empty plate, says "A do it," and walks into the kitchen. She then comes back and gets my plate to do the same.

"Thank you!" I exclaim proudly. I hope this part of the "A do it" phase lasts long into the teenage years.

"You welcome," she says triumphantly, obviously pleased with the results of her efforts.

I watch A return to her place in the floor, her eyes riveted on the competing athletes. Perhaps she is dreaming of her own Olympic debut, and like Michael Phelps, whose mother allowed to swim in the deep end on his own, and Shawn Johnson, whose mother allowed to swing unreserved from the uneven parallel bars, I realize that allowing A to cautiously do things on her own may not be such a bad thing, after all. Sure, it makes mommy sad to see her little girl growing so quickly, but at the same time it thrills me to know she is so eager to try and to learn. I love watching her eyes flash when she recognizes her letters, or watching her little chin lift with pride when she kicks the ball in a straight line. After all, isn't this what God has called us as parents to do?