As my 14-year-old son, Jake, bounds into my office, he drops his backpack and dashes up the stairs without a second thought. There’s no knock, no “excuse me.” He flops dramatically into the extra chair, bubbling with excitement over his latest test score and weekend plans.
I can feel the deadline looming over me as my fingers linger over the keyboard, but I choose to hit save and give him my full attention. In this moment, I realize how rare these interruptions have become, and I know I need to embrace them.
When my kids were younger, I craved just a few moments of uninterrupted time: a chance to sip my coffee while it was still warm, catch up with a friend, or even just a minute to use the bathroom without an audience. Back then, I struggled to complete a single thought without a child pulling at my sleeve or demanding my attention.
The constant interruptions were maddening. I dreamt of uninterrupted hours to focus on my work, to think, and to finish a task from start to finish. I taught my kids to wait patiently, knock on closed doors, and say “excuse me” when I was busy. They tried their best to comply, but putting aside their immediate needs was a challenge, even when they were old enough to understand.
Eventually, they got the hang of it: unless there was a genuine emergency, they learned not to interrupt. As they entered middle school, I noticed a shift—not just because they understood the rules better, but also because they needed me less.
At first, I reveled in their newfound independence. I was thrilled to see my kids becoming more self-sufficient. I could finally focus on my freelance work and even carve out time for exercise. It felt like I was reaching the end of the motherhood tunnel.
But, as with many aspects of life, the grass isn’t always greener. Now that my kids are busy with school, sports, art classes, and social lives, I find myself with ample time alone. I appreciate the peace, yet I can’t help but miss those sweet, chaotic moments. It’s a bittersweet irony.
I long for the days when their tiny voices would ask for help with shoelaces or when they’d curl up in my lap while I tried to finish a text. I miss the endless playtime with blocks and toys, and those cherished moments of slicing apples and making sandwiches, crust-free of course.
We’ve all heard that the days are long but the years are short, and it couldn’t be more accurate. Now that my kids are navigating their teenage years, both time and moments feel fleeting. I won’t pretend that every moment of motherhood is easy or enjoyable—after all, who can forget the chaos of a toddler’s tantrum in the middle of the grocery store?
What I will say is that I choose to cherish the interruptions I still have. Soon enough, my kids will be off on their own adventures, and I’ll be left with only memories (and maybe some tears). Until then, I wholeheartedly welcome their interruptions.
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In summary, while I embrace these precious moments of interruption, I also reflect on the sweet chaos of motherhood. With time slipping away, I aim to savor every encounter, knowing that soon, they may be just memories.