I always knew it would happen – I had children with the understanding that they would not be babies forever. Yet I’m still reeling from the shock of waking up and discovering that my toddlers are actually teens. Of course I’ve been there with them every step of the way…I suffered (I mean rejoiced!) with them through new teeth and acne, scraped knees and home runs, good grades and not such good ones, new friends and lost friends, visits to the ER, successes and disappointments of all sorts, and just about everything else that comes with child development and child rearing. Yes, I’m a good mom – and they’re good kids – but I sure wish they got along better! I’ve suffered with them through my not-so-perfect parenting, and all the good or not-so-good qualities they were lucky enough to inherit from me and their dad (fortunately we’ve had their incredible dad along on this journey, warts and all).
Speaking of their dad, I was just shy of 25 when we got married. He was a little older but we’ve met in the middle I think. I’ve finally stopped turning 29. My younger son told me at one point that it was time to turn 39. I’m sure I’ll never turn 49. Right? Kids get older – not their parents. I’m not against aging, to a point (not that I have any choice in the matter!) – there are amazing life experiences we’d never have if we didn’t grow up – but having an empty nest is coming sooner than I expected. And growing old – really old – can be a bit scary. So I won’t go there, at least not yet.
People always say how quickly “time flies,” that we’re supposed to treasure each moment before it slips away. Sometimes it’s hard to live in the present when we have to be so concerned about the future – saving money, getting good grades, filling out college applications! But I definitely try to savor each moment with my kids. I take more photos of them than they’d like me to – and I often stay in the moment for too long, attempting to engrave it into my memory. I want to hold their hands, hug and kiss them…and when they let me, I’m often amazed that the chubby cheeks have given way to chiseled cheekbones; the rolls around their wrists are just that their sleeves are too long; their cute bellies reveal a progressing six-pack.
My boys have become gentlemen. They learned from their dad and practiced with me. They are handsome and sweet and charming and smart and helpful and moody and messy and disrespectful! They hate me and hate that they need me even when they know they really love me. And I hate that they hate me even though I know they really don’t.
Would I go back to their toddler-hood if it were possible? Not likely. Diapers and strollers and sippy cups have become boxer shorts and metrocards and coffee cups. I think I’m okay with that. I do love seeing the men they’re growing into. I’m incredibly proud of their independence, their work ethic, their values. And I’m proud of myself for surviving parenthood – so far, as it never really ends.