Sometimes, I feel as though I’ve been caught in a time loop. Another summer has come and gone. The air is turning chilly, soccer games are back in full swing, and dance lessons are just around the corner. Before we know it, Thanksgiving will arrive, followed swiftly by Christmas, lacrosse, track, and recitals. And then there it is—the last summer when both of my kids will be living at home. With every turned calendar page, an unsettling feeling of an impending conclusion creeps in.
How did we get here?
It seems like just yesterday I was sweating it out at the pool with my 2- and 4-year-olds, struggling with my post-pregnancy body and constantly fearing for my kids’ safety in the water. Kindergarten seemed light-years away, let alone high school or college. I can still vividly recall locking eyes with another mom at the baby pool, both of us silently wishing for the day we could lounge under a shady tree with a good book. Yes, I’d think to myself, I can’t wait until my daughter can swim on her own—until she no longer needs me.
Yet here I am, three years since my last pool visit. My daughter has become an independent swimmer; she’d be mortified if I showed up now. She has her friends, stylish swimsuits, and boys vying for her attention.
While cleaning under my bed the other day, I stumbled across a solitary green Lego piece. The days of crafting imaginary worlds with Legos are behind us. Back when my kids were younger, I often found myself wanting to rush through their childhood phases. Perhaps it was my hectic work schedule and the demanding nature of caring for small children that pushed me to hurry along. Or maybe it was simply the annoyance of tiny Lego pieces scattered throughout the house.
Rush. Rush. Rush.
If I could turn back time, I would take it slow and build a few more Lego castles. I tucked that little green brick into my jewelry box to keep the memory alive.
What happened to those American Girl dolls, the 500 stuffed animals, the princess costumes? That giant dollhouse has vanished. I might as well file a police report. I’ve been replaced by their friends, extracurricular activities, and personal interests.
And where is my sweet boy with the floppy hair? In his place is a 6-foot teenager with a crew cut who grunts and frequently responds with “I don’t know.” The vibrant girl who once occupied the room of my headstrong toddler is now asking me to pick up tampons and mascara at the store. Oh my goodness!
A middle-aged woman with fine lines and gray roots now stares back at me in the mirror.
Weekends have become eerily quiet. I’m no longer the young mom I once was. My children don’t depend on me in the same way they did in their early years. Yet, just the other day, my son asked me to toss him the lacrosse ball so he could practice shooting. So I did.
A week ago, he invited me to watch Boyz n the Hood with him. My desk was piled high with to-do lists, articles to review, and real estate calls that needed my attention. Truth be told, I was looking forward to finally tackling my work without interruptions. But green Lego memories tugged at me.
We ended up watching the film together, discussing it afterward. It turned out to be one of the rare peaceful moments we shared this summer. My daughter tends to open up late at night, just when I think I can’t keep my eyes open any longer. But I do. I’ll be there for her as long as she needs me.
They still rely on me for rides, advice, and boundaries. And, like newborns, they seem to require constant feeding. Food seems to vanish from the fridge at an alarming rate.
But times are changing.
We’ve navigated through countless phases and are on the brink of new adventures and exciting beginnings. I’m determined to savor each moment and not rush through them. Whether it’s watching a movie or having a heartfelt conversation, I will set aside my own agenda. And that’s perfectly fine.
Isn’t this what every parent desires? Independent children? My mother reassures me that my kids will always need me in some capacity, just as I still depend on her, and each stage of life brings its own challenges.
I suppose I just wasn’t ready for how quickly this un-needing phase would arrive. It feels like time is traveling at warp speed. The last moments hit you like asteroids, coming at you fast and furious.
If you’re navigating your own parenting journey and looking for resources, this post might be helpful: check it out here. And for those considering at-home insemination options, Make A Mom offers reputable kits to support your journey. Additionally, you can refer to Hopkins Medicine for excellent information on pregnancy and home insemination.
In summary, while the transition to this new phase of parenthood can be startling, embracing the change and cherishing each moment can make all the difference in your family journey.
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