March 22 2021

I find myself caught between wanting my kid to grow into a woman and the desire to see her remain a princess forever. She can’t be a princess forever. She will grow up and all I can do is provide her the tools to become a responsible and successful adult.

It is the toughest job I have ever had in my life.

I want her to be a woman that has everything she needs and the desire to succeed. Today was a big and symbolic progression in my daughter’s life, and in mine as well.

Today she went to a job interview and thinks she got her first job. A job…

It wasn’t that long ago when she was jumping on her new bed in excitement. Her brand new princess bed. I splurged on her fifth birthday and got her a really nice solid wood princess bedroom suite. Complete with the princess comforter and pillowcases. She was Daddy’s little princess and I spoiled my little girl.

Ten years later, she no longer wanted to be a princess. She wanted to fit in; she wanted a new bedroom suite. So this year I bought her a beautiful solid wood suite that she can take with her for many years to come. She was no longer daddy’s little princess bouncing on the bed.

She was trying to find her way into becoming a woman. Still, she is daddy’s little girl, trying to find her way in a world turned upside down by a viral infection of the body and of the mind.

I hope she gets the job.

Part of me mourns the loss of my little princess. The rest of me celebrates her growing independence. I ache for her and her trials in life, I fear for her as well. I also sometimes want to shake some sense into her rattled teenage brain as well.

I just need to let it go.

Today I let go of her princess bedroom suite to the first people that came and got it.  One family contacted me last week and wanted to come right away to see it. Their fourteen-year-old was excited about it. Fourteen? My Fourteen-year-old kid thought it was for a little girl. They agreed to come for it when I got down from Big White. 

In the meantime, I got messages from other people wanting the suite. I had one lady offer more money for it. I told her no I had a buyer.

I messaged the people with the fourteen-year-old at lunch to ask them to come to get it. No reply, I sent another message. Again nothing, I tried again and left them my phone number.

I ached inside, I wanted to get the princess bedroom gone. So I messaged the lady that offered me more money. One hour later the suite was gone. A new bedroom for their three-year-old granddaughter. While they were there I got a message from the people with the fourteen-year-old.  They forgot their phone when they were moving.

I felt terrible.

I was very sorry but the suite was going to a three-year-old instead. Was I so devastated because I let down the fourteen-year-old? Should I have waited… I wanted it gone. It was hard to let go.

My little princess is no longer that little girl bouncing on the bed and jumping into her daddy’s arms. Now another little girl can jump into her daddy’s arms.

I take solace in the fact it is going to a good home. It is an inanimate object, only a bedroom suite. But I have an emotional attachment that defies logic. I can’t escape the symbolism in the same day her princess suite was sold, she got her first job. 

And the cycle of time marches on.