Happy 18th Birthday, Butterfly!

Because it was Butterfly’s Freshman Weekend at the college she’ll be attending this fall, we drove up to Ohio this weekend. Rock Star opted not to come along. He chose to devote the weekend to sailing about Lake Michigan on his friend’s boat, rather than spend a collective total of 10 hours with us in the car, sitting next to his little bro who’d call him a “Butt-head” and hit him with gummy worms. Go figure.

We left at 5am yesterday, and the 5 hour drive from our home in the Chicago ‘burbs to Ohio flew by, especially since I slept the first 3 hours, not waking up until we were well into Indiana. Poor Super Hubs. I don’t know how he did it, driving alone in the dark predawn, his family dozing away, and nothng but his thoughts to keep him company. He even kept the radio off so the kids and I could sleep. He wins as The Better Half. There is no doubt!

Our drive was smooth and with only one minor incident. Little Squirt announced he had to pee, and when my little boy declares his need to urinate, it generally means that his bladder is completely full to the brim and we have 32 seconds to find him a toilet before there’s a leakage of Geyser-iffic proportions. As it happened, we were in the middle of the freeway with nary a rest stop in sight. But fortunately, I had an empty plastic coffee cup with a lid, so.......I’ll spare you the personal details. Let me just point out that:
A.) I am nothing if not resourceful.
B.) Little boys have certain advantages over little girls. Just sayin’.

When were almost to the college campus, Butterfly transformed herself from a sleepy, ponty-tailed High School Grad in sweat pants, to a perfumed, lip-glossed College Coed in an Abercrombie ensemble. I don’t know how she did it. It was like Clark Kent becoming Super Man, only Butterfly didn’t even need a phone booth.

But with the transformation came Attitude. Super Hubs dropped the two of us off at the college while he went to park the car with Little Squirt. But Butterfly was distressed that I was walking into the Student Center to help get her checked in and settled. She didn’t want to be seen with me. I don’t know if it was because I was walking around with a coffee cup full of uine and asking where I could dump “Bio Waste” or if it was just because I was Her Mother. And Butterfly didn’t want to be seen with Her Mother at Freshman Weekend. “Mom!” she hissed. “Why are you coming with me??”

I had a flashback. She had just turned five years old and walked up the steps into the big yellow school bus, destined to take her to her first day of kindergarten. Head held high, she was full of cheerios and confidence and never looked back. I watched her find a seat somewhere in the middle of the bus, and I kept waving at her window. But she never looked back at me. Not once.

My little Independent Kindergartener was now an Independent College Student-To-Be, and did not want Her Mother to help her check in. But when she saw the students lined up to fill out paperwork, some with their parents, she grabbed me. “Mom, stay with me and help me check in.” My head spun from the mixed-message; The Borderline Dance that toddlers and children-turned-adults engage in: “Leave me. Don’t leave me.”

Another flashback. She was a pig-tailed baby, and I was holding her in a pool. She kept pushing me away from her, wanting to swim on her own. But the water was over her head, and I knew if I let her go, she’d drown. Still she kept pushing and I kept holding on.

As soon as she was all checked in yesterday, Butterfly turned into an adult again, caught sight of some friends, and then I was brusquely dismissed from the college campus. “Good-bye. I’m fine now. See you tomorrow,” and she turned to walk with her homies. Super Hubs, Little Squirt and I drove away, and went on to enjoy a train museum and a swim in the hotel pool. But I kept thinking about Butterfly.

Today is her birthday, ironically. She turned 18. We picked her up from the college this morning, and then headed back to Chicago. We’ll be back in another month when school offically starts. Butterfly is excited, and full of stories about her new friends and experiences. She cannot wait to return.

My Baby-Girl-Turned-Woman; walking across that bridge that is Child-To-Adult, where the boundatries are blurred and the destination is hazy. And I’m right next to her crossing the Parent Bridge and doing the Borderline Dance; part of me wanting to send her successfully off into the world, and the other part of me wanting to pull her back close and keep her safe. Our relationship will, over time, morph from Parent-To-Child to Adult-To-Adult. But we’ll have to learn this transition together.

Happy Birthday, Butterfly! This is a big year for you. Stretch those beautiful wings and enjoy flying into this next part of your journey! I couldn't love you more!