Hard to believe that on January 14, my daughter is now into her “tweens.” Though there is a mini adult in the making, I am happy to report that she has plenty of childhood left. That inevitable loss of childhood is what I am loathe to witness.
Right now, I still can carry her up to bed, which says more about my ability than her size, I am afraid. She still lets me hold hands with her. She draws cartoons, wants sleepovers and has zero interest in makeup or clothes. Since I am her father, I welcome all of that. I am so happy that she doesn’t indulge in “crushes” or any of those dramatic things. That the boys in her class are boys who are still in the “booger” phase of their youth is a help. Though Annie and I hear her reports that some of the kids in her class are starting to venture into such things as “boyfriend, girlfriend, themfriend” and whatever other confusing gender allocation of her generation. It can wait. We still have a lot of fishing, hiking and father-daughter time that has to happen.
Yet, I know, it won’t wait.
Áine just became certified in baby-sitting. While we walked Capers around Northwestern University, she excitedly told me the blow by blow of her learning about diaper changing, cuts, burns, choking and feeding of a baby. My baby is getting ready to take care of other babies. It is something that I have to accept.
My deepest fear about my daughter is that she will start seeing me as the human man he is. She already nags me about my hearing. But that day will come when she sees her Papa as someone who lugs around his own fears and faults.
I try to instill faith in her. Take her to church and teach her about community. That I work in an after-church run to Dunkin’ Donuts is clearly a bribe, but why not? Why shouldn’t some spiritual work be topped off with a Boston Cream? These are the moments that I truly cherish with her. Those bits of childish insight and wisdom are still rolling off her tongue. The newfound obsession with space and black holes. Voracious reading of “Astrophysics for Young People in a Hurry” by Neil DeGrasse Tyson. She tells me things that I don’t know, and I am so happy to learn from her, my daughter. All told in that wonder that only a child or a very old person can muster.
That she continues in music and placed second this past year for her age-group in the Illinois Music Association piano competition fills me with pride and also respect for her ability to have grace under pressure. She is on her way to wherever she wants to go, and I will do my best to not stand in her way. Nor do I want her to feel obligated to be a musician or feel that there is an expectation. I want her life to be free of conditional love.
I know I look at Áine through the prism of my own childhood, my own fears and yes, my own inadequacies. And I give her plenty of room to make her own mistakes and grow on her own accord.
The biggest gift I can give this 11-year-old is the constant reminder that she is a marvel, as amazing and thanked-for since that subzero, polar vortex day we brought her home from the hospital. Back then I wondered how the hell I would be able to keep this baby alive, much less how to raise her. I am happy to report that this little girl is pretty good at growing up and learning all on her own. I am so honored that her soul chose our family to hang out with for a while. That still, we can walk in the woods, hold hands and talk about wormholes to other galaxies. Hopefully for another year, I will still be able to be “Papa” and not “Dad.”
READ MARTIN'S OTHER BLOG HERE.