Little Miss Independent...

So we were out to dinner tonight. And per usual, within 10 minutes of being seated and the whole lets-order-our-drinks-and-enjoy some-complimentary-bread part of the evening, Aves looks at me with those big hazel eyes, raised eyebrows and all, and points to her "nether" regions, proclaiming:
"Momma, I gotta go potty. BAD."
And so off we venture like 2 intrepid explorers, hoping to find the 'throom before it is "too late." (Side note, does anyone else with children realize that bathrooms are always located in the darkest, scariest, most non-obvious corners of restaurants when your child is doing the pee-pee dance and you need to find one immediately?)
Anyhoo, we finally stumble upon it, and as we enter, she peruses the aisle-o-stalls and quickly spots the stall which looks the most promising for her bladder-emptying experience.
"This one looks the cleanest, Momma," she states, pointing. (p.s. Looking for the cleanest, non-peed on toilet seat? That's my GIRL!)
As I go to follow into the stall behind her per our usual tradition, I sense a hesitation, and she stops dead in her tracks;
"Ummm, actually Mom?" she says, "I was thinking that since I'm four and a half now I am ready to go potty alone. You can wait out there, okay?"
Here I am, in the bathroom of Not Your Average Joe's, completely floored by the fact that my "little" girl - my baby- is expressing to me that she no longer requires my assistance with the potty.
I am hesitant at first, then sad immediately. As she closes the stall door behind her and locks it, I stammer
"Ok honey, go for it. What a big girl you are!" while choking back tears and trying desperately not to let her hear the quiver in my voice.
(I am brought back exactly 2 years ago, almost to the day. March of 2008. She was two and a half. "No more diapees," she plainly stated to us that morning in her high chair. "Big girl undies now." And that was that. Never an accident, never a wet bed. Instantly, she had made up her mind and just as instantly she was potty-trained.  No bribery, no charts, no stickers-- just a trip to Target and her choice of Dora or Tinkerbell undies in a size 2 Toddler. Seems like yesterday...)


As soon as I hear the click of the stall door lock, my sadness turns to panic-  
But how will she climb onto the potty ALONE? Without me lifting her?! And ewwwww! She's going to have to touch the yucky public POTTY to hold on now! And-- how in God's name will she reach the toilet paper roll from her perch atop the porcelain throne?! SHE'S ONLY FOUR! And...oh my goodness....will she remember to wipe front to back?? I usually wipe her!!! I'm not ready for this.....

But alas, my thoughts are interrupted by the familiar whooooshing sound of the industrial-strength toilet flush, and I peer through the crack in the door to see her working very hard to pull her leggings up from around her feet.


"Want Momma to help you with your pants?" I ask innocently.


She turns to see me peering in the stall door crack.

"Noooooooooo Mom! And stop looking at me in here, I would like privacy please!"

And with that, I wander over to the sink area to wait, almost in disbelief that (we) have both survived her first solo potty experience. Thirty seconds later, she emerges from the stall with her leggings successfully (and crookedly) pulled up, and the most prideful, victorious, beaming smile across her face that I've ever seen.


"See Momma?" she states as she retrieves her own soap to wash her hands, turns on the faucet herself, washes thoroughly, and even waves her hand in front of the automatic paper towel dispenser for a paper towel.  "I'm a big girlie now! I can do everything all by myself!"

I am so proud. So happy. So sad. So incredibly overwhelmed-- so many things all at once. But then again, I suppose these are the moments that I am to remind myself, this is what it's all about.  This is, in essence, is the whole point of parenthood. Preparing our children to survive without us. To wipe a bum alone in a sketchy public restroom unassisted. To pull their own pants up, crooked or not. To order their own "chicken fingers and green beans kids meal with a chocolate milk, please?" without the prompting or assistance of a Mom or Dad.


I guess I should hold on tight to these little moments now.  Because inevitably (and way too quickly for my liking,) she will soon be asking for much bigger scarier things:  A training wheel-less bike. Rollerblades. To sleep over a friend's house. A ride to the school dance. A cell phone. Car keys. And eventually, alone time with a cute 15-year old boy in the family room.

Yikes.

And so in conclusion, I suppose that the wiping of her bum alone, and the flushing of a toilet all by herself in a public restroom stall, are relatively benign milestones in the big scheme of things to come. So as long as she promises me that she'll slow down with the rest of this 'growing up' business...then flush away, Aves.

Flush away.