She’s growing up. I can see it and celebrate it and dread it all at the same time. It’s a wiggly walk to teenage-hood. Little changes in attitude and body. This week was more of a smack over the head approach to parenting a pre-teen. Her new wheelchair is great but it’s so much more difficult to lift her out of and she is becoming so tall. The time has come to use the hoist.
I probably should have been hoisting her for a while now, as they do at school, but she is my baby. This is yet another version of letting go. Not easy but I bit the bullet. The hoist has been collecting dust and dirt and, more recently, rain splatters on the deck for some time. Finally, I called Bill the hoist man and madly cleared the grime off just before he arrived (couldn’t possibly appear as slack as I am…funny creatures aren’t we!) A new battery, the moving parts serviced and it is good to go.
It is not a particularly difficult thing or even unexpected but it’s still a thing. Something else to deal with. It will be more time consuming to move her from her chair to her bed …and without a cuddle on the way. I think that’s what upsets me. Yet another piece of equipment in our lives and seemingly less humanity.
I need to wrap my head around not merely the fact that she is growing up but that this is exactly what she should be doing. It is a complex process raising a child with the thoughts and hopes of a double digit kid but the care needs of a baby. Quite challenging to strike a balance. Having more insight and acceptance than me, I am sure she will help me along. As Fergie said “It’s time to be a big girl now, and big girls don’t cry.” She won’t cry. Me on the other hand…