You know, this mommy thing is tough. I heard the rumors from others talking about what happens once your kids get to be a certain age. I thought at best, they were bitter, maybe drunk. Seriously, at what point did my job description change? Teeth clenched and knuckles white, I have barely exhaled in a week. Bryce is learning to navigate high school, but it is confusing and I am so accustomed to stepping in, I forget it is time for him to take control of his own destiny. Bailey is riding the TARC bus with assistance, for now, but soon will be independent. Again, with the no breathing. This transitioning roles for me is foreign. I run our household like a well-oiled machine that hesitates. It might not be perfect, but it is perfect for us. So, now what am I suppose to do? No one is in need of their nose wiped, I no longer need to remind people to go to the bathroom, and, to top it off, not one of those teenage boys wants to cuddle on my lamp. It is a conundrum.
Inside, I am like a screaming toddler begging for attention or that really annoying kid who is constantly screaming, “Pick me! Pick me!”. UGH. The feeling is so out of character and my comfort zone. So, how am I going to spin this to suit me? How about what do I do with my new found freedom? Yes, freedom! While they are cruising the roadways to adulthood, I am driving the scenic route pausing to take in the surroundings. Instead, of monitoring my clock for other people’s schedule, I am free to only monitor it for me. And while, I am still busy with their schedules, they have options for transportation that aren’t dependent on me. Yes, I have a little bit of wiggle room to prepare me for the time when the gap will be larger. The trick is having a plan for when the writing is on the wall. After all, I was someone before I was their mother. I am not defined by my kids nor are my kids defined by me. It is a melting pot that blends.
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