From the moment I became a mom, I was a bit of a control enthusiast. I never relied on bottles; instead, I latched my children to me, almost as if they were a part of me—which, I suppose, they were. I cherished those early days, even while wandering around with milk stains on my clothes, barely functioning on just a few hours of broken sleep. I embraced the role of the devoted mother, spending my days soothing, rocking, and carrying my little ones everywhere.
As they grew, I often found myself reminiscing about their earlier stages—longing for when my oldest was still three, when my middle child was a baby, and the days before my youngest could run from room to room instead of snuggling in my arms. I was a classic smother mother, fully immersed in the chaos and joys of motherhood.
Fast forward to today, and my boys are now 14, 11, and 8. They’re navigating high school, middle school, and elementary, and while they still need me for countless tasks, I expect them to take on more responsibilities. When they don’t, my sweet nurturing side has transformed into a no-nonsense, cranky version of mama. “Get moving,” I’ll say when they dawdle too long. “Pick up your stuff,” and “Handle it yourself” have become my go-to phrases. I don’t beat around the bush anymore; I want things done, and my patience is wearing thin.
You might think I’m being selfish—and perhaps I am—but I’ve reached a turning point. It’s time for me to reclaim some of my own identity. I’m diving back into writing, something I genuinely love, but it requires time and focus. If I’m constantly reminding my kids to do their chores, I won’t have the opportunity to sit in my cozy chair and get lost in my words.
I’ve decided it’s time for my kids to be more self-sufficient, which, in turn, allows me to be more independent. It’s a tough adjustment at times; I reminisce about the emotional moments when my oldest outgrew his beloved stuffed animals or when my youngest confidently left for school without looking back. I was once the mom who hosted playdates just to keep my kids close, but now, I relish those moments when they’re engaged with friends elsewhere. There are days when I just want some peace and quiet, to focus on myself instead of catering to everyone else’s needs.
I recognize that soon enough, my boys won’t be underfoot as much, and I’ll miss the days of making their favorite snacks or searching for lost baseball gear. I’ll cherish the memories of being so intricately involved in their lives; however, for now, I just wish they’d take a moment to clean up after themselves.
If you’re navigating similar challenges, you might find helpful insights in our other blog posts, like this one on the nuances of parenting and independence. And if you’re curious about at-home insemination options, be sure to check out reputable sources like Make a Mom, or visit American Pregnancy for comprehensive information.
In conclusion, while I may have evolved from that hands-on, nurturing mom to a more independent figure, the journey continues to be filled with both nostalgia and growth. Now, if only they’d pick up their stuff!
Leave a Reply