As I stroll past the little girls’ aisles at Target, I can’t help but feel a lump in my throat at the sight of all those charming little outfits. It takes me back to when you were just a toddler, sitting in the shopping cart, blissfully occupied with whatever caught your tiny hands. Those were the days when I was picking out the cutest ensembles, each one adorned with sparkles, knowing how much you adored everything that glittered.
The memories flood back of your tiny closet overflowing with shoes; my own shoe obsession had found its way into your world. Your dad would often joke about where all our money disappeared. I remember sitting on your cozy quilted bed, excitedly unveiling the latest finds, and the way your eyes would light up, followed by your warm embrace and heartfelt whispers of “I love them all, Mommy.”
But over the past couple of years, I’ve noticed a shift. While you still express your gratitude and help put away new clothes, the unrestrained joy that once filled those moments has faded. I’d find the same clothes months later, unworn and with tags still attached, and I clung to my denial as I prepared them for donation or to pass along to friends with younger daughters.
Now, with your teenage years just a month away, our shopping trips have expanded beyond Target to trendier stores. On a recent outing, we wandered the aisles together. I picked out a few items to show you, and then it was your turn to share what you wanted. That’s when I realized the inevitable: I was no longer the one choosing your clothes.
You’re discovering your own style now. Those sparkly sandals have been traded in for chunky-heeled boots that fit just like mine, and floral headbands have given way to hats featuring your favorite shows. The vibrant dresses and floral skirts have been replaced with funky rompers and camouflage shorts adorned with pom-pom trim.
In that moment of clarity, I realized how much you have changed. I’ve tried to resist this transition, but it’s a bittersweet truth that I cannot deny. I miss the days of my cherubic little girl with pigtails and faux pearls, twirling in her sequined outfits. Yet, there’s a thrill in watching you blossom into a confident young lady with her own distinct style, someone who believes in kindness, embraces joy, and is navigating a wonderful, carefree youth.
The process of letting go has begun, just a little at a time. I’m getting to know this newer version of you, and I must admit, I appreciate your unique flair.
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In summary, as I navigate this new phase of parenting, I embrace the changes and look forward to watching my daughter continue to grow into her own person, even if it means stepping back from the role of chief wardrobe curator.