rite of passage

Being a mother means many, many rites of passage along the way. There's the first time your newborn son pees on the nursery wall while you are changing his diaper and trying to figure out how to contain the fire hose. There's the first big fall off the two-wheeler bike and the scabbed knees that come along with it. And, of course, there's the first day of preschool and kindergarten that make your heart swell and break simultaneously. Of course these are rites of passage for our kids but they are also moments frozen in time for us as mothers, don't you think? They are days and moments and events that we will never forget.

For several weeks Caroline has been talking about an art project they were working on at school. Since she's in kindergarten and only goes to school in the afternoons, they don't have art class on a regular basis yet. So art class is a BIG deal for our girl. Can you guess what they were working on? Pottery. I remember trying to make my mom and dad a coffee mug in first grade or so. It probably wasn't really functional but I remember the looks on their faces when I brought it home - they were so proud of me and acted like that mug was the holy grail. No joke. And the mug that my brother made for my dad sat on his dresser for years. I'm not sure what he put in there (spare change, maybe?) but the fact that it sat on the dresser in a place of honor meant so much.

So when Caroline unwrapped her vase this last week, I think I had tears in my eyes. I'm such a sap, I know. But I couldn't help it. She was so proud of herself and explained how she molded the shape and pinched softly here and there, creating her masterpiece. It was her pottery but it was a rite of passage for this mama. I didn't have to pretend that I loved it or that it was amazing....it is.