I was having dinner with friends recently when we got to talking about moments with our children that just stopped one day. Like the last day our daughters played with dolls. Or slept with a stuffed animal. Or the last time our sons fell asleep holding plastic toys — for mine, it was a red rocket ship from the television show Little Einsteins.
If you’re not careful, as a parent, you can really depress yourself thinking about all those little last moments. The last time he wanted you to read him a bedtime story. The last time she called you Mommy before you became just Mom. The last time their hands reached for yours. We recognize the last time they use training wheels and the last days of elementary school. But we often don’t realize the little things that stopped until they don’t happen anymore.
My kids are growing up. And every day, the thought makes my heart ache just a little bit more.
This stage of motherhood, when I have a teenager and an almost tween, just feels different. Sometimes it feels as though I’m not needed as much, unless it’s to drive my son to a swim meet or soccer practice or my daughter to the movies or the mall. Maggie starts high school next month, and I can feel her just itching to be out in the world. I tucked some money into Garrett’s tooth pillow recently after he lost a tooth and he didn’t even notice for a few days. These kids have pretty much been the center of my world since they were born — the baby books don’t tell you how you’re supposed to act during these in-between years of childhood and adulthood.
Recently, writer Rebecca Reimers Cristol discussed how to embrace the empty nest once our children have gone off to college or moved out on their own. I’m not there yet, but I feel it coming, looming over everything. I find myself worrying about their childhood — have I been a good mom? Have I helped create enough good memories for them? Will they look back on their childhoods fondly one day? The critic in me frets that I didn’t do enough, wasn’t there enough. The other part of me says relax, that I did the best I could — that I’m doing the best I can. Rebecca, in her article, reminds us to be easy on ourselves and look for the positives.
So while yes, the “little years” are over, I try to remember all the new moments I’m getting to experience. Watching my son get better at swimming. Watching my daughter find herself in musical theater. Being able to have grown-up discussions with them about topics ranging from the environment to politics (yes, even politics). I know there’s more to come: teaching them to drive, navigating through relationships, figuring out what colleges to choose. I’ll always be mom to these two incredible children. No one can take that away. And when she walks in the door and gives me a long hug, or he cuddles up next to me on the couch, I figure I must be doing something right.