Wow! It sometimes seems like it was just yesterday that Abby came to live with Grubby and me, a scared and pissed off 12 year old. It was understandable, considering that we moved her from the home she’d lived in her entire life in Florida to our house in Virginia after her biological mother died unexpectedly. I’d have been scared and pissed off too… especially when it really hit me that I was getting ME for a stepmother. So, I knew that the transition would not be easy for either of us.
Abby had not had any freedom, except when she was on her Kindle, when she lived with her mother and maternal grandmother. In fact, she was so dependent on them that she didn’t even know how to tie her own shoes until she was 9 or 10 years old! When she would come visit us, the handwritten instructions that we would find in her suitcase were absolutely ridiculous! Think listing out what shirt goes with what shorts, what she would and would not eat, and stuff like that.
Most people who have raised kids probably end up turning into their parents after all, so if the parents were raised in a codependent home, they will end up raising their children in a codependent home, not because they are bad parents, but because that’s what they know. If parents were raised in a home where education and independence were highly prioritized, they raise kids who know who to study and how to look after themselves earlier than others.
I was not raised in a home where everything was done for me. By the time I was 12, I had been walking to and from school for several years, and I was responsible for picking out my clothes and helping with the family laundry. I was raised to be pretty independent. I attended summer camp for a couple of weeks every summer as a preteen, and in my early teen summers, I went off to Sewanee Summer Music Center for five weeks… five weeks away from my parents. By the age of 15, I had flown across the country by myself twice, flying to San Diego after Sewanee was over, to meet up with the rest of the family. There was no escort from gate to gate in Atlanta, but I do remember being able to catch a ride on one of the little carts that they take people around on. Other than that, I was on my own, with a whole world out there…
Abby was used to a mother who she could hang on all the time, and I was NOT that mother at all. I have never really been into kids at all. I didn’t even like most kids when I was a kid! She was used to living with a mother who panicked and fussed over her if she fell, or coughed, or just because. I was definitely NOT that mother!!! I was the one who said, “You’re not bleeding or broken, so get back on the bike.” So, it was a huge adjustment for her.
Today, I watched the child I’ve raised for the past five and a half years as she walked through the TSA Checkpoint in Tri-Cities Airport alone. I saw the college student that she will be in the not too distant future, traveling to visit her GramBarb and GramBill, my parents, for a couple of days!
Today, I saw my sweet Abby, who hadn’t known how to tie her own shoes until a couple of years before she moved in with me, into the strong, independent young lady that she is going to be. I am so proud of how far she has come, and I am proud of me for teaching her how to take care of herself, for raising her the best way I knew how…
I can’t help but think that Grubby would be proud too – of both of us!
Sweet!