watching my daughter grow (listening to Slipping through my fingers)

Five months ago, my 12-year-old daughter had her first day at high school. It seemed she walked out the door a child and returned a teenager.

It happened so suddenly that it left me breathless, my rosy ideals replaced with the reality of a growing relationship. I spent a term grieving the loss of my little girl (how did she grow up so quickly? Why didn't I hug her more when I had the chance?). I love the new Lizzy - bursting with happiness and friends and independence and new experiences - but it's felt at times like I've been left on the platform while she's boarded the train.

One day earlier this year, I poured my sense of loss into a blog post that I never published, because I didn't want to trespass on my daughter's privacy. But I heard a song on the weekend which expresses it perfectly. It's from ABBA's final album The Visitors, and it's called Slipping throughmy fingers. For copyright reasons, I can't post the lyrics here; but if you get a chance, listen to it.

The song says it all: the feeling of guilt over all the opportunities for time spent together that I let slip by, the inability to truly enter my daughter's world and know what's going on in her mind, the 'absent-minded smile' as she leaves the house each morning, schoolbag in hand.

Of course, this isn't just a time of loss. It's not a time for passive acceptance of any increased distance between us, or decreased influence in her life. It's a time of opportunity: a time for new conversations and ways of relating, as I help my daughter grow into the woman God wants her to be. We're enjoying reading Carolyn Mahaney and Nicole Whitacre's Girl Talk, and I've been helped by Paul Tripp's Age of Opportunity.

My mother taught me not to dread the teen years, but to welcome the opportunities they bring. I watch my daughter and pray that God will go with her into the places I can't, that he will give her wisdom and courage and love for him, that I won't forget my continuing responsibility to love, teach and train her, and that I'll know when it's time to pursue her and when it's time to let her go.

image is by Markus Bollingmo from flickr

what I'm reading: some great parenting advice from our school newsletter

One of the (many) surprising things about parenting is how easy it is to argue with your kids. Before you have kids, it looks so simple. You ask your child to do something. They disobey. You discipline them. They obey.

That's before the clever comebacks start. "It's not fair!" "You love him more than me!" "You always think it's my fault!" "Why are you always cross?" "Why do I have to do it? Just tell me why, Mummy!" Emotional manipulation dressed up as ... well, as emotional manipulation (but it works, because it's aimed at your weakest points, guilt and self-doubt).

Before you know it, you're arguing back. "Of course I love you!" "I'm not cross. At least I wasn't until you started arguing!" "It is so fair." (At this point your grammar, like your temper, is deteriorating.) The argument escalates into 10 exhausting minutes of "You said" - "I said", and all your images of competent parenting end up on the cutting room floor.

Which is why I love this parenting advice from, of all places, our school newsletter's hints on parenting (which I normally resent for its superior, PC tones). This advice is supposed to be about boys; but I think it's mums and girls, with their verbal dexterity, who need to hear this most of all.

Repeat demands quietly without getting into arguments. This is called the 'broken record' technique and differs from nagging in that you just repeat the instruction quietly, rather than embellishing upon the theme. It's more effective and a lot less exhausting!

Never get into a 'whodunnit' battle. So, don't get into a battle about the truth; just jump to the consequence. State what the problem is then get them to fix/clear it up.

Another technique is 'fogging'. Agree with comments and then instruct e.g. when your child is doing homework and gets distracted saying, 'I like this song', respond with 'Yes, now back to your reading.'

My loving, good authority is the way my children learn about God's loving, good authority.

Quote is based on advice from Dr Ian Lillico, Churchill Fellow and author.

image is from TheeErin at flickr