Growing Up Tuna

"Wow! You and Mommy look so different in that picture."

My daughter was talking about the engagement picture that had run in our local newspaper. We have a framed copy of it on a shelf practically hidden by the chairs in our living room.

"Was that before they had color?"

Okay, little Smart Ass. We may look a bit different. I was skinny and my husband had hair. (I MEAN more hair. Yeah. More hair.) But we don't look that much older.

I don't' feel old at all. I know my husband is struggling with his gray hair and the fact that his baby girl is old enough to read on her own. But sometimes, I don't even really feel like a grown-up.

My husband and I were talking about it this weekend. When do you become a grown-up in other people's eyes?

I think I know the answer. It's not fair in the least. But it is the answer none the less.

You're a grown up when you have kids of your own.

I swear the shift in perception changes overnight.

And that sort of makes sense, because when you have a baby, your responsibilities shift and multiply overnight too.

But it wasn't the being-totally-responsible-for-a-tiny-human-being-thing that makes me feel like a grown-up. It is the letting go, and letting that formerly tiny human succeed and fail on her own that has been the turning point.

I had this realization today during my daughter's violin lesson.

The program she's in is based on parent involvement. The parent is considered the home teacher. And I have been an awful teacher this week.

She's struggling to remember her basic technique while learning a new piece, and I've had no patience with her at all. I've been short. I've yelled. I've given up.

But at her lesson today, she played her new piece perfectly.

And it wasn't a reflection of my parenting skills. Or my teaching skills. Or my patience, pride, or love for her.

It wasn't a reflection of my success or failure.

It was all her.

And it will be all her when she plays on stage at her graduation to the next level. It is all her when she doesn't score a goal. And when she cries at swim class. And when she dances at her recital. And when she performs in her play.

It's even all her when she passes her spelling test, no matter how many times we drill her on the words.

I still don't feel old. Even though the gray hair I found on my chin is telling me differently. But I feel more like a grown-up. Because I'm entering a new phase of parenting and I'm relearning the ropes as I go.

Someday I hope to be a grandmother, if for no other reason than that one day her kid will look at a picture of her performing at a recital or playing soccer and ask, "Gee, Mom. Was that before they had digital cameras?"

It will serve her right.