She can now legally buy alcohol - which she did at 10 0'clock in the morning - because she could and wearing her "birthday bitch," crown.
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| Mia, on her way to the shop |
She can buy cigarettes - which she never will because she spends most of her time at parties going round putting out other people's cigarettes.
She can legally watch all the "18-rated," films she wants, which she has probably been doing since she was 15
She can also now legally: vote, drive a bus, buy a house, buy fireworks, learn to fly a plane and bungee jump.
All of which meant that, on Saturday morning, ... she looked and acted exactly the same as she had looked and acted on Friday night.
"How does it feel to have another adult in your house?" texted one of my friends.
" Like one adult too many," I texted back.
But that's not really true.
Because to me, Mia will probably never quite be grown-up.
She will always be our daughter, I will always be the mum who worries too much, Ninesh will always be the dad who helps her sort out her finances, her computer, her passport, the nuts-and-bolts that hold her life together.
Being an " adult," is not going to mean that Mia suddenly starts doing her own washing (in my dreams) cooking her own dinner, paying her own bills...not while she's living under our roof.
Day to day, having an 18 year old daughter will make very little difference to our lives.
But perhaps what it does do, is bring the future closer.
Like a blank canvas, permanently hanging on our wall, we have always been aware of our children''s future, of the day they will walk out of the door and into a tomorrow that doesn't involve us.
But I've never really thought about it seriously.
It's something you can always put off because it's so far away.. But one day soon, Mia, and not long after that, her 16 year old brother Joss, will lift their blank canvases off our wall, carry them away and start to fill them with colours all their own.
And that;is a very strange feeling.
It's strange to imagine them living a life detached from ours, doing things we will never know about with friends we might never meet in places we have never been ( although I'm probably naive in believing that doesn't already happen).
The thought that they might be hurt or upset or confused without my knowing, without me being there to comfort them is almost too painful to think about.
I wonder if, as parents, we are ever quite prepared for the day our children spread their wings and with only the merest of backward glances, fly into their unfamiliar future their wings glimmering with the hope and excitiement of unknown possibilities..
" I"m still dreaming of that day," says one of our neighbours whose three sons, now in their late 20's are all still living at home in their small 3-bedroomed house.
I think about this.
Of course there's a little part of me that would be very happy to imagine Mia and Joss forever curled up on our sofa on their phones and laptops while watching TV.
There's a lIttle part of me that would be relieved to hold them close forever.
But the world is too big and mostly-beautiful, too full of wonders and of what-will-happen-next for my love to hold them back.
So when they are ready to carry the blank canvas of their future away with them, I will lift it carefully off our wall and hand it to them.
And perhaps they won't notice the tiny corner I have torn from it and how I keep it buried in my heart.
Day to day, having an 18 year old daughter will make very little difference to our lives.
But perhaps what it does do, is bring the future closer.
Like a blank canvas, permanently hanging on our wall, we have always been aware of our children''s future, of the day they will walk out of the door and into a tomorrow that doesn't involve us.
But I've never really thought about it seriously.
It's something you can always put off because it's so far away.. But one day soon, Mia, and not long after that, her 16 year old brother Joss, will lift their blank canvases off our wall, carry them away and start to fill them with colours all their own.
And that;is a very strange feeling.
It's strange to imagine them living a life detached from ours, doing things we will never know about with friends we might never meet in places we have never been ( although I'm probably naive in believing that doesn't already happen).
The thought that they might be hurt or upset or confused without my knowing, without me being there to comfort them is almost too painful to think about.
I wonder if, as parents, we are ever quite prepared for the day our children spread their wings and with only the merest of backward glances, fly into their unfamiliar future their wings glimmering with the hope and excitiement of unknown possibilities..
" I"m still dreaming of that day," says one of our neighbours whose three sons, now in their late 20's are all still living at home in their small 3-bedroomed house.
I think about this.
Of course there's a little part of me that would be very happy to imagine Mia and Joss forever curled up on our sofa on their phones and laptops while watching TV.
There's a lIttle part of me that would be relieved to hold them close forever.
But the world is too big and mostly-beautiful, too full of wonders and of what-will-happen-next for my love to hold them back.
So when they are ready to carry the blank canvas of their future away with them, I will lift it carefully off our wall and hand it to them.
And perhaps they won't notice the tiny corner I have torn from it and how I keep it buried in my heart.
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| Mia and Joss |
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