First things first, she is a kind, loving and thoughtful little girl. She is just starting to discover the joy in making people laugh and is really beginning to shine when the spotlight is on her.
I see a budding flower in her that is already amazing in its own right, so fresh and full of life. So raw with emotion and sincerity. And it will have a remarkable beauty when it blooms.
It’s just that her bud isn’t starting to blossom yet. And from my experience, it should be a bit more open than it is right now.
The challenge lies in her social skills. She is hesitant, even reluctant, to join in social situations on her own. Even if I am there, sometimes it takes her a while (and I mean over an hour) to really separate and go join the fun. A lot of times her big sister helps, but sometimes I think that can even make things worse because she’s still not trying things out on her own. Plus she will chase her sister down if she tries to go off with her own friends, which puts a bit of a damper on my other daughters’ experience.
But once she is in the moment, she does have a lot of fun and sometimes she even shows the rest of the world what I get to see every day.
Her preschool teacher last year told me it took a few months of school before she would even talk in class. And she doesn’t really have any one that she considers a close friend in her class because I think she’d just as soon play on her own. Plus she sticks to the one little girl that she has known her whole life who isn't in her class. She calls her one of her "best friends", and is still reluctant and unwilling to go play with her when we arrive at the school.
The real downside to this is that sometimes it’s too late and she doesn’t get everything she wanted because the world couldn’t stand still waiting for her to jump in.
As her mother, this is my arch enemy. I want her to have everything she wants and more. And I know she wants these things. She just can’t seem to muster up the strength to venture out on her own, and that weighs her down.
I want to lighten her load so she can run free and soar high. I want to ensure she doesn’t suffer from missed opportunities because she is so painfully shy.
Granted missed summer camps, gymnastics classes, and the like aren’t going to turn her into a social leper. I know she’ll be fine if I leave her alone and don’t worry so much. She will get through this stage in time.
But there are two problems here. One: I don’t want her to be just fine. I want her to be stupendous. And two: how much time are we talking about? Because this time that she spends is not just hers, it’s mine too.
Do you remember that movie Groundhog’s Day? Where the guy kept living the same day over and over? Well I have that going on with her goodbyes. Which are closely tied in to her hellos. Which all circle around to her shy social habits.
Here’s how her goodbye goes. She says she’s ready, then when the moment comes she balks. Burying her face in my legs is usually next, followed by “I don’t want to go to” fill-in-the-blank. Then we have a five minute discussion about what bribe I’m currently offering, and maybe one out of five times that works in motivating her to walk in to her activity, albeit without a look back or a good-bye.
It’s like I’m sending her off to the slaughter instead of someplace where fun and creative people are waiting to teach her all kinds of new and exciting things.
If you add up all the school mornings, gymnastics classes, summer camp days, swimming lessons, babysitter afternoons, etc, for the past year and a half, it’s over 400 times we’ve gone through this song and dance.
It’s killing me softly. I can’t take it anymore.
And anyone who knows me knows that I am a do-er. I need to feel like I am
So here is where the last post begins. With a trek into the social world of my three/almost four year old.
Over the next year and more, we will go places, we will see people, we will make friends, we will have play-dates, and we will enjoy every opportunity.
And slowly but surely, if I do my job right, that “we” will turn into “she”.
My end goal is that she sees her own opportunities ahead of her and she runs full-force, or at least at a fast-paced walk, until she can grab it on her own and head out toward the wild blue yonder.
But she still looks back to make sure I’m still there.
And I always will be.
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