Cutting the apron strings

Just yesterday, it seems I had a curly haired little girl who played dress up in oversized fancy dresses and high heeled sparkly shoes, twirling about the house to music on the radio.

A little girl who thought the boy on the Disney movie was dreamy and life revolved around friends and sleepovers. Then, all of the sudden, last Friday night, that same little girl appeared out of her room, no longer a little but tall and thin, wearing a fancy purple dress that fit her to a tee, adorned with shiny rhinestones and lots of tool, complimented with silver sparkly flats.

Her curly hair was done professionally this time, all hair-sprayed and pinned up here and there, and her neck and ears decorated with silver jewelry to match.

She beamed with pride and her smile couldn't have gotten bigger as we all gushed about how beautiful she looked. That same smile she gave a few years back when she'd come downstairs after picking out the perfect dress up outfit, feeling like a princess, proud of how pretty she made herself in the hand-me-down prom dress, fake pearl necklaces and shiny plastic bracelets. Only this time, it was for real. She got to dress up for REAL, and not for a fake tea party with her sisters.

And this time, she wasn't imagining dancing with the dreamy Disney teen star, but had a real date. A date that came to our house dressed all nice and brought her flowers. A boy that we were going to let her go to a dance with on her own and actually hold on to each other without us there. Oh goodness, where has the time gone!

As she hugged me goodbye when leaving for the dance, I wonder if she felt me tense up when she tried to let go. I wanted to hold on a little longer, hug a little tighter. Wondering where that little girl went that would ask me to dance with her when she dressed up like a princess or would ask to put my lipstick on. Did she notice that my chin started to quiver when they slipped out the front door or that my eyes began to tear up when she waved from the car as they drove away? Did she notice how hard I tried to play off that I was not affected by the fact my baby was no longer a baby and has grown into a beautiful young woman?

It was our first homecoming last weekend. Our first legitimate high school dance, something I've been both looking forward to, yet dreading all at the same time. Something that seemed ages away finally arrived before I even knew what was happening. Something she had been planning for since last summer, her very first formal dance .... and my first apron string being cut.