metamorphosis

Children grow in fits and starts.

My chunky toddler thinned out and seemed to grow four inches overnight. My kindergartner who wore the same pants for two years suddenly had high waters.

Developmentally too. My frustrated, screamy baby developed a few words at once and could finally communicate what he wanted. The high-strung, tightly-wound preschooler became a focused, earnest school boy. The flighty, hyper youngster turned into an artistic, creative soul.

Getting through each of these stages can be exceedingly painful as a parent.

They are moments trapped inside a chrysalis with a bewildered, confused, angry child. Your caterpillar. And neither of you knows at the time that that is where you are. It feels like a dark, confined, slimy place that you've never been to before. And both of you think that you are doomed to spend the rest of your life there.

Until suddenly it starts to break open. And the light appears. You can poke your head out and look around. And you look at your caterpillar and notice something.

Wings.

While you were wound up together in the dank and scary place, your child grew into a whole new being. With a delicate, elegant new body with parts he has never seen before and doesn't know how to use. Slowly but ever so surely, a new life emerges - one you didn't even know to dream about.

We're in a chrysalis right now. It's ugly and dark. And sometimes it's all I can think about. That I will be here, trapped with this angry and confused child forever. But I've been in here enough times now to know that I must hang on. While the wings grow and develop. And a metamorphosis occurs.