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7

1
About a month ago, I started noticing my eldest, Lilija, more than I normally do. 
Something was happening to her, and I couldn’t place my finger on what it was. She was suddenly taller, her legs entirely too lanky and out of place, folded up around her on the dining room chair, colouring. There were faint hollows in her cheeks that weren’t there before. When I watched her stride across the park in jeans, I noticed that her hips swayed a bit more gracefully, and less awkwardly. 
Her questions started becoming a bit more probing, more direct and
SelfishMother.com
2
earnest, less scatty. Her patience for going on various errands with me all of a sudden became non-existent (I normally drag all 3 kids with me to various boring places because I don’t have childcare options). I then realised that what was happening was the last shreds of babyhood distinctly disappearing in front of my eyes. 
Truth be told, I’d never really noticed the plethora of “baby milestones” too much, like the developmental leaps at 3 months, 6 months, etc. I just kind of went along with it as the goal posts changed, adjusted the
SelfishMother.com
3
routines, had more coffee to battle the teething nights. Sure, I got excited about the first giggles, the first crawls, the first steps, the first day of preschool. But all the other stuff I just let her take my hand and lead me towards the next path that she needed to take. I mean, she’s the kid that taught herself how to tie her own shoes and tie her own school tie, so that’s less me  being a lazy parent (I hope), and more about me watching her explore her world in her own time. 
But this… I don’t know. This feels different. It’s like
SelfishMother.com
4
I’m watching some mysterious creature shed its skin in front of my eyes, and my legs are the ones that are shaking and unsure. I’m the one that has no idea how to process what’s happening in front of me.
So then, as most semi-sane parents do, I turned to Google for an answer, my wild eyes searching desperately for some kind of handbook to tell me what to do and how to act.
What happens when a child turns 7?
How to talk to a 7 year old?
What does a 7 year old need?
Are 7 year olds not technically ’little’ anymore and why does this all make me
SelfishMother.com
5
sad? (True story, I typed that in whilst crying into my wine.)
Apparently, a huge developmental and emotional shift happens at 7. 
At 7, children start to process information on a much more important level, and start using more words. 
At 7, girls become quite clever in how to manipulate their environment and also more open with their feelings, to try and bond to their parents and friends using their surface-level raw emotions.
At 7, girls will add to their friendship groups but will be fickle about them (a best friend may become an enemy
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overnight).
At 7, children start to learn empathy, start to understand what is good and bad, whereas before this age, they had no idea how and why their actions might affect another person.
At 7, children start to experiment more with attitude (great), with defiant behaviour. They start testing their boundaries in their developing adult world. 
At 7, girls’ bodies start a physiological shift, with hormones starting the subtle ascent into puberty. (which means that I need to get the shed nice and cozy so I can move into it when she turns 14)
At 7,
SelfishMother.com
7
children start to crack open and let in the world in so many brilliant and hungry ways, through music, through school, through experiences, through adult example. 
I also read a few articles that reference the “3 stages of childhood” in Middle Eastern culture. Apologies for loosely paraphrasing here, but basically, it explains that children in the first 7 years of their life, should learn through play. In the next lot of 7 years, they learn through teachings and experiences. And the last stage, from 14-21, they begin to implement what they’ve
SelfishMother.com
8
learned in order to start exploring their rapidly approaching adulthood. 
So I guess, tomorrow is the day the magical strings of babyhood start unravelling, and new, stronger sinews start forming in her bones. Because by the time she’s 14, her foundation should hopefully be as solid and informed as possible (especially as an empowered and confident woman on this planet), so that she can start using the tools in her head and her heart to discover what the world is made of.
When I saw Lilija for the first time, holding her on my chest those 7 years
SelfishMother.com
9
ago, her doll-sized fingers splayed around my index finger, I imagined her in so many different ways. I thought I could envision what she would act like, look like, what her voice would sound like as she sang nursery rhymes or pop songs. I wondered how tall she would be, if she would be shy or fearless, if she would ever speak Ukrainian. I wondered what her lips would feel like as I kissed them goodnight, if her skin would be freckled or pale, if she and I would be attached at the hip or opposing personalities. 
Some things I still don’t have the
SelfishMother.com
10
answer to yet. But so far, she’s defied a lot of what I assumed about her, which is probably a good thing. 
When Lilija was a week old, my father told me, “We don’t own our children. We have the honour of renting them for a short while.” I always think of that when I she gently pushes me away, asking me for space, not wanting me with her. Slow down, I think. Slow down and let me in. And she will, she does. Eventually. But it takes a bit longer now, too long for my insistent heart sometimes.
A new, exciting story is about to be written, and I
SelfishMother.com
11
have to steady my legs and my gaze whilst hoping above all else that I can understand what she needs on this journey; a sort of farewell to my baby and, a welcome to a new girl walking ahead to take her glittering new spot in the sun. 
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7

- 24 Oct 16

About a month ago, I started noticing my eldest, Lilija, more than I normally do. 

Something was happening to her, and I couldn’t place my finger on what it was. She was suddenly taller, her legs entirely too lanky and out of place, folded up around her on the dining room chair, colouring. There were faint hollows in her cheeks that weren’t there before. When I watched her stride across the park in jeans, I noticed that her hips swayed a bit more gracefully, and less awkwardly. 

Her questions started becoming a bit more probing, more direct and earnest, less scatty. Her patience for going on various errands with me all of a sudden became non-existent (I normally drag all 3 kids with me to various boring places because I don’t have childcare options). I then realised that what was happening was the last shreds of babyhood distinctly disappearing in front of my eyes. 

Truth be told, I’d never really noticed the plethora of “baby milestones” too much, like the developmental leaps at 3 months, 6 months, etc. I just kind of went along with it as the goal posts changed, adjusted the routines, had more coffee to battle the teething nights. Sure, I got excited about the first giggles, the first crawls, the first steps, the first day of preschool. But all the other stuff I just let her take my hand and lead me towards the next path that she needed to take. I mean, she’s the kid that taught herself how to tie her own shoes and tie her own school tie, so that’s less me  being a lazy parent (I hope), and more about me watching her explore her world in her own time. 

But this… I don’t know. This feels different. It’s like I’m watching some mysterious creature shed its skin in front of my eyes, and my legs are the ones that are shaking and unsure. I’m the one that has no idea how to process what’s happening in front of me.

So then, as most semi-sane parents do, I turned to Google for an answer, my wild eyes searching desperately for some kind of handbook to tell me what to do and how to act.

What happens when a child turns 7?

How to talk to a 7 year old?

What does a 7 year old need?

Are 7 year olds not technically ‘little’ anymore and why does this all make me sad? (True story, I typed that in whilst crying into my wine.)

Apparently, a huge developmental and emotional shift happens at 7. 

At 7, children start to process information on a much more important level, and start using more words. 

At 7, girls become quite clever in how to manipulate their environment and also more open with their feelings, to try and bond to their parents and friends using their surface-level raw emotions.

At 7, girls will add to their friendship groups but will be fickle about them (a best friend may become an enemy overnight).

At 7, children start to learn empathy, start to understand what is good and bad, whereas before this age, they had no idea how and why their actions might affect another person.

At 7, children start to experiment more with attitude (great), with defiant behaviour. They start testing their boundaries in their developing adult world. 

At 7, girls’ bodies start a physiological shift, with hormones starting the subtle ascent into puberty. (which means that I need to get the shed nice and cozy so I can move into it when she turns 14)

At 7, children start to crack open and let in the world in so many brilliant and hungry ways, through music, through school, through experiences, through adult example. 

I also read a few articles that reference the “3 stages of childhood” in Middle Eastern culture. Apologies for loosely paraphrasing here, but basically, it explains that children in the first 7 years of their life, should learn through play. In the next lot of 7 years, they learn through teachings and experiences. And the last stage, from 14-21, they begin to implement what they’ve learned in order to start exploring their rapidly approaching adulthood. 

So I guess, tomorrow is the day the magical strings of babyhood start unravelling, and new, stronger sinews start forming in her bones. Because by the time she’s 14, her foundation should hopefully be as solid and informed as possible (especially as an empowered and confident woman on this planet), so that she can start using the tools in her head and her heart to discover what the world is made of.

When I saw Lilija for the first time, holding her on my chest those 7 years ago, her doll-sized fingers splayed around my index finger, I imagined her in so many different ways. I thought I could envision what she would act like, look like, what her voice would sound like as she sang nursery rhymes or pop songs. I wondered how tall she would be, if she would be shy or fearless, if she would ever speak Ukrainian. I wondered what her lips would feel like as I kissed them goodnight, if her skin would be freckled or pale, if she and I would be attached at the hip or opposing personalities. 

Some things I still don’t have the answer to yet. But so far, she’s defied a lot of what I assumed about her, which is probably a good thing. 

When Lilija was a week old, my father told me, “We don’t own our children. We have the honour of renting them for a short while.” I always think of that when I she gently pushes me away, asking me for space, not wanting me with her. Slow down, I think. Slow down and let me in. And she will, she does. Eventually. But it takes a bit longer now, too long for my insistent heart sometimes.

A new, exciting story is about to be written, and I have to steady my legs and my gaze whilst hoping above all else that I can understand what she needs on this journey; a sort of farewell to my baby and, a welcome to a new girl walking ahead to take her glittering new spot in the sun. 

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Tetyana is a Ukrainian-American mum of three, married to an Englishman, living in NY. She's written for Elle and Vogue magazines, and her first novel 'Motherland' is available at Amazon. She hosts a YouTube show called The Craft and Business of Books, translates for Frontline PBS news, and writes freelance.

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