I’ve always had a bit of a control freak streak. From the very start, I was determined to feed my little ones the “old-fashioned” way, nursing them like they were literally glued to me (which, in many ways, they were). I reveled in those bleary-eyed days, milk stains as my badge of honor, and kids clinging to me like life rafts.
I didn’t want any help; I embraced the martyr role, spending my days soothing, rocking, and juggling children in various positions—on my hip, my back, or in my lap. As they grew, I found myself nostalgic for previous years—wishing my oldest was still three or my youngest still immobile. I worried they were growing up too fast, wallowing in the emotions of being that quintessential smother mother, running on five hours of broken sleep and kind of loving it.
Fast forward to today, and my boys are now 14, 11, and 8 years old. They’re in high school, middle school, and third grade. While they still need me for a ton of things, I now expect them to be more self-sufficient. And when they don’t meet those expectations, I transform from gentle, nurturing mom to cranky nag. “Move it!” I’ll shout when it’s time for showers and they’re still dawdling. “Pick up your stuff!” and “Get it yourself!” have become my go-to phrases. I’m no longer sugarcoating things; I want results, and my patience is running thin.
It might come off as selfish, but I’ve turned a corner. Life is starting to shift back to being about me, and I’m fully embracing this new chapter. I’m writing more and absolutely loving it. But like any job, it demands time, and if I’m busy nagging, I can’t be sitting in my comfy chair, typing away.
I no longer crave their constant presence (though a hug here and there is still nice). I want them to be more independent so I can reclaim my independence as well. Yes, there are moments when I feel guilty—like when my oldest waved goodbye to his stuffed animals or when my youngest headed off to school without shedding a tear for me. But I’ve evolved. The mom who hosted endless playdates because she needed them close now appreciates when they’re off playing with friends. Back then, I thrived on their neediness; now, I relish the occasional solitude where I can do absolutely nothing for anyone but myself.
I know that soon enough, my boys won’t be underfoot as they are now, and I’ll miss the little things—making them breakfast or helping them with their gear for baseball. I’ll look back fondly on those days when I was entirely present in their lives.
But for now? I just want them to clean up their act.
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In summary, parenting has taken a turn for me. From being the overly attached mom, I’ve shifted into a phase where I want my kids to step up and take charge of their own responsibilities. Embracing this new independence is liberating, and while I know I’ll miss certain aspects of their childhood soon enough, right now, I just want them to pick up after themselves.