Now I've Gone & Said "Ifs, Ands, or Buts." Who Am I?

We took our 4-year-old daughter to watch our city's local fireworks Monday night. It was her first time to see fireworks and I was almost as excited as she was about sharing such a special moment. I loved fireworks as a child; heck, I still do.

So we arrive at our viewing point, the local community college. We find a spot on the concrete stairs. We'd have preferred the grass but earlier it'd rained just enough. Another family with a little boy was seated a few steps above, and he and Shannon struck up a conversation almost immediately. Within minutes they bonded over their overprotective parents, both of whom kept telling them to stop swinging on the railing. This kept her entertained since we'd arrived about 20 minutes early, which was all well and good. Until I told her she needed to come sit with us since the fireworks were about to start.

To which she replied with an emphatic stomp and a stubborn, "No, Mom. I wanna sit with my friend."

Oh, hell. It's already starting. She'd rather hang with her friends than her lame parents.  Suddenly, flashbacks of "My So-Called Life" began playing through my head. We watched the first few episodes several months back and I found it baffling that now I relate with the mom. When I was a teenager in love with Claire Danes and her kool-aid red hair, I thought the mom was an overprotective, unfair bitch. Pretty much the same way I felt about my own mother.

Now I not only relate, but understand. Shudder.

I wanted to watch Shannon's face as she experienced the fireworks for the first time. And I did. I made her sit with us, of course. I saw the first explosive color illuminate her face. I silently watched her wonder and then the burst of smile that followed.  It was a breathtaking moment as a mother. But a small part inside me couldn't help but curl in a ball and rock slowly back and forth. Although I won this battle, victories will grow few and far between. This I know.

She'll want to go to her first dance without her mom. I'm pretty sure she won't want me around for her first kiss and without a doubt I'll miss her first underage sip of disgusting peach wine cooler. What if she wants to see Wicked for the first time with a friend instead of me? Well, that's simply absurd. She'll be sitting in the chair next to me when Elphaba sings Defying Gravity. No ifs, ands or buts.

And now I've gone and said ifs, and or buts. Who am I? With two short sentences, Shannon lined an infinite amount of firsts in front of me, most of which I won't be privy to.  I felt that explosive revelation illuminate my soul. I silently choked back the burst of sadness that followed. As depressing as it sounds, it was a heartbreaking moment as a mother.

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