Today, I faced a tough truth: my once-mighty mommy powers—the ones that chased away imaginary monsters lurking under beds, stopped toddlers from turning their rooms into diaper cream artworks, and kept kids from using their heads as battering rams—are losing their edge as my children grow up. With kids aged 16, 13, and 10, I’m realizing that the magic isn’t as potent as it used to be.
Sure, there were moments when my powers faltered, like the time my three-year-old decided to create a race track on our cream-colored carpet using a red Sharpie or when my ten-year-old thought it wise to etch the names of The Beatles into his new dresser. But hey, even superheroes have their off days. As long as my trio was breathing, I was feeling pretty good about my abilities.
A few years back, I began to notice the cracks in my superhero facade. My snack-making speed was scrutinized, and I received unsolicited feedback about my driving routes in the mom-mobile. Apparently, my kids had some “better” ideas about how to navigate to their after-school activities. No biggie—I simply reminded them that I’m their mom, not a genie, and taught them how to whip up their own snacks. I also made it clear that if they didn’t like my chosen route, they could skip out on their friend’s house or team practice!
Deep down, I thought about upgrading my powers for a quicker snack-prep option and a hefty dose of patience. I missed the days when my every effort seemed magical. But I also felt joy watching my kids grow and become more independent.
Then came the heavy questions that I couldn’t answer, like why grandfathers age and move into assisted living, or why loved ones get sick and pass away. My powers were no match for the harsh realities of life. All I could do was listen and reassure them of their safety, even when I struggled to believe it myself. I may not be able to take away their pain, but I could be there to help ease it.
Now, two of my kids tower over me, and I can’t even carry my youngest to bed if he falls asleep on the couch after a long TV binge. My eldest is contemplating college, and before I know it, he’ll be signing documents and voting. Each day, he inches further out of the reach of my mommy powers.
As I reflect on their journey into adulthood, a part of me wants to freeze time. Sometimes, I’d trade anything to keep them small forever—when a kiss could cure their hurts and nightmares could be vanquished with a simple song.
But today, it hit me: I’m not losing my powers; I’m passing them on. Sometimes it’s done lovingly, other times they have to wrestle them away from me. These special abilities were never solely mine to hold.
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Summary:
This piece reflects on a mother’s journey as her children grow up, highlighting the bittersweet transition from being an all-powerful protector to embracing their independence. While it’s tough to let go, she realizes that she’s not losing her powers but rather imparting them to her kids, allowing them to navigate their own paths.