All Growed Up

Last night, my little girl went to Homecoming.

This is how she looked to me.

And this is how she looked to everyone else.

Sigh. *wipes away a tear*

It's been a crazy few days, with lots of fun stuff, and it feels like everyone has aged a few years this weekend, particularly me.  We started with the Homecoming parade on Thursday night, where Youngest Daughter got to ride the parade float, and is on student council.  She doesn't seem OLD enough to be on a student council.  It's like saying "my toddler is on student council".  I wanted her to wear a helmet or water wings or something.  It's weird for me.  But I guess a good transition into the other milestones of the weekend.

Then we all went to the Homecoming football game, where Oldest Daughter promptly ran away with her friends, The Son promptly ran away with his middle school friends, and Youngest Daughter ran in a pack of elementary school girls on the hill about 30 feet away from us and loaded up on brownies and slushies.  They all wanted to stay after the game and line up with the students to high five the football players running back to the locker room.  The odd part is that I was thinking "they want to line up with the students!" and the reality is that they ARE the students.   OD is one of the "Big kids".  This can't be happening.

Then, the big day.

We all slept in (bliss) and then at 10:30 we left to OD and her friend's nails done.

These are pink to match her dress, with a black houndstooth pattern on two of them.  By noon, she was tired of me taking pictures.  I was over her attitude.  Things were going South.

Then the Great Fight Over Whether or Not To Wear a Sweater took place.  You can imagine which side of the fight I was on.  Guess who won?

Hmm.  No sweater.  But it's going to get below 50 degrees when the sun goes down.  Whatever.  Go ahead and freeze.  I'll be home in stretchy waistband fleece pants with a beer and wool socks on.  Doesn't her friend look like a blonde Audrey Hepburn?  Look at the hair...

So pretty!  Then we were off to the BIG photo session.  Indulge me while I share, it's all I had going on for the last week.  Or month.

So pretty except, apparently, for my mysterious ingestion of five pounds of salt.  How does one bloat up like this?  I give you the Starbucks Salted Caramel Mocha.  Damn you, SCM.  Damn you to hell.  Isn't this how MY mom looked when I was in high school?  How did I become the mom?  No, don't tell me.  I know.  It's icky.

She gets beautiful flowers...

I tell the boys to simulate a fight scene, thus ruining the pics for the other parents, You're Welcome Parents!

And here are the beautiful girls, who didn't

line up by height on purpose....

And then they went inside for dinner and I had to leave.  I asked if anyone needed a ride from the club to the dance, and OD said, "No Mom, I don't think we need you."

What?!?!  You don't....NEED...me?


And as I drove away in the swagger wagon, I realized that she doesn't.  I mean, she NEEDS me, but she doesn't need need me, like to cross the street or eat at a restaurant or be around large groups of people.  So this weekend was about a little more than my oldest child going to her first big dance, with a date, no less.  It was a litle bit about starting the slow process of removing herself from our home.  Baby steps.  The little bird looked over the side of the nest for the first time, and I think she likes what she sees. 

So far, I'm pretty lucky.  She's a good kid, she had manners, she gets good grades, she's in some nice extracirricular activities, she has good friends.  But nothing is guaranteed, and I know that I'm not arranging the playdates and picking out her clothes and pulling the strings anymore.  It's a little scary, but it's a little bit fun too, to watch her find her way and become the person she is going to be.  I hope it's a good one.

In the meantime, I'll be licking my salt block and nervously eating cake.  Wish me luck, people.