Wednesday, November 30, 2016

Watching them become


It's a Friday night and I'm sitting in the grass watching my youngest play on the play ground. There's several families here and a few single parents and I enjoy just watching them  interact.



As a mother of four I've come to accept that I've been a different mother to each of my children. Partly because each of them is so different but mostly because I am. Sometimes I'm sad that my youngest doesn't often get my undivided attention, or that I don't play imaginary pirates with her. My first born got so much of my creativity, homemade baby food and hand sewn Halloween costumes. My second son and I often painted and played in giant card board boxes or had dance parties while doing chores.  My third is disabled and that has brought out a while other side of me as as mom than I could have never imagined. 



I think of each of them everyday, and struggle like all mothers with teaching them to be independent humans and keeping them safe. 



Recently, when my youngest was having a melt down from not eating and being over stimulated I told my sister.... I'm tired. She looked at me perplexed.... I realized in that moment I've been parenting for 18 yrsrs....18 years of being "in charge" and "being an example" and making decisions. 



I speak to parents who have older children and am told it's never anything you stop doing. This both terrifies me and fills my heart.


I am often amazed at the young men my older two are becoming. I know that being a parent means letting them go, but each time they leave my house, my hug or my phone call, I feel like time is slipping away. I feel like the moments of them needed me or looking at me for guidance are now fleeting. So yes, I may be tired, but not tired of them, or of being a parent. Not tired of hearing them say mom, and certainly not tired of watching the miracle of them becoming.

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