Her Oyster

My first grade daughter is one tough customer, and I am really starting to realize it this week. Wednesday was our second day of school. We have a system, my daughter and I, to get ourselves to school and her brothers to the babysitter. She loves to walk to school, two long city blocks from our house. Some days we walk together, but this day she set out while I schlepped my textbooks and my sons to the babysitter’s house on the next street. We end up at school at the same time and I help her cross the fairly major street. She gets a little exercise and autonomy, and I get everybody where they need to be on time.

I was waiting for her in the faculty parking lot as she happily bounced about twenty more yards to the road. She looked like a pro with her backpack nestled on her shoulders and her lunch bag swinging. She had a big grin as I walked her across the street. I told her she did a great job and she said, “Except for one bad thing Mommy.” Pictures flashed through my head of what she might consider bad on a solo walk to school: a loose dog, a stranger, an untied shoe. Turns out she was stung by a bee on her way; she hadn’t even made it one house before it happened.

I have learned over the years to stifle self one that wants to scream and over-react when something happens to one of my children. Maura herself didn’t seem too upset and she said it only itched when she looked at it. So we both giggled as I told her not to look at it and took her inside. My friend the science teacher gave me some baking soda and we covered the sting. She was calm and happy and proud to tell her story all day!

But it got me thinking of all the times when she has reacted like a champ and her Mother has had to bite her tongue to keep herself from passing out. Her first encounter with a bee was at a fall soccer game last year. She had played so well that day and had already scored three goals. The fall air was cool and sunny as she rested at half-time. She was standing talking to her teammate’s Mom when a bee stung her. She didn’t even cry. She put some ice on it and went back in the game, nearly scoring goal number four.

And then there was the day of her double tooth extraction. Her mature teeth started growing in before her baby teeth fell out so there was no room for the baby teeth to wiggle. The doctor scheduled a double tooth extraction that almost made me throw up. But she went willingly and calmly, and when she was done she said it was “Fun.” How sad must her life be if she thinks a double tooth extraction is fun? But in actuality, the dentist does have the helpful laughing gas and the Dora show on the television above the chair, so I can see why she likes it. And plus, she is resilient. She reacted the same way for her kindergarten shots. I had heard stories for months about how difficult the shots were and how traumatizing. Maura didn’t even bat an eye or shed a tear. Four shots straight into her thighs without so much as a whimper. Looks like she has the medical world covered already.

Being tough in this world is essential. And I’m sure I help a little by not falling to the earth sobbing or clutching her to my bosom every time she encounters a difficulty. I am okay with a little hardship and failure for my daughter. I know it builds character and makes her stronger. What more could a mother desire, than a child who can roll with the punches and keep on walking, despite bee stings or needles? As they say, I think the world is her oyster, but I am glad she can deal with the rough grains as well as the beautiful pearl.