Sometimes, I feel like I’ve been caught in a time loop. Another summer has slipped away. The air is becoming brisk, soccer matches are in full swing, and dance classes will commence in two weeks. Before we know it, Thanksgiving will be here, followed closely by Christmas, lacrosse, track, and recitals. And then, the inevitable last summer will arrive, the one where both of my kids will no longer be living at home. With each passing month, there’s an unsettling realization that an era is coming to an end.
How Did We Get Here?
It seems like just yesterday I was languishing at the pool with a 2- and 4-year-old, sweating in the 100-degree heat. I was self-conscious about my post-pregnancy body and terrified one of the kids might drown. The thought of kindergarten, let alone high school or college, felt eons away. I can still picture the knowing glance exchanged with another mother in the kiddie pool.
Wouldn’t it be wonderful to relax under that big shade tree with a book? I silently agreed. I could hardly wait for my daughter to swim independently—so I wouldn’t have to be there at all.
Time passed unnoticed, and I haven’t set foot in a pool in three years. My daughter now swims like a fish and would be mortified if I showed up. Instead, she has her friends, trendy swimsuits, and boys vying for her attention.
Reflecting on the Past
While cleaning under the bed recently, I stumbled upon a lone green Lego piece. The days of creating fantastical brick worlds with my children are long gone. Back then, I often felt the urge to hurry through the challenges of parenthood, including the Lego phase. Perhaps it was my busy work life, coupled with the demanding nature of small children, that made me rush through it all. Or maybe it was just my disdain for stepping on tiny Lego pieces scattered throughout the house.
Hurry, hurry, hurry.
If I could turn back time, I would take things slower. I would build a few more Lego castles. I tucked that little green brick into my jewelry box as a reminder.
Where did all the American Girl dolls, the countless stuffed animals, and the princess costumes go? I should probably file a report for the missing items. They’ve been replaced by friends, extracurricular activities, and their own pursuits.
And what about my sweet son’s floppy hair? Now there’s a tall teenager with a crew cut in his room who often responds with grunts and “I don’t know.” The young woman inhabiting the room where my spirited toddler once slept asked me to pick up tampons and mascara at the store. Oh my goodness!
I catch a glimpse of a middle-aged woman with fine lines and gray roots staring back at me in the mirror.
The Changing Dynamics
Most Friday and Saturday nights are quiet now. I’m no longer the young mom I used to be. My kids don’t rely on me in the same way they once did. Yet, recently, my son asked me to toss the lacrosse ball for him to practice shooting, and I obliged.
Just last week, he invited me to watch Boyz n the Hood with him. I had a mountain of tasks on my desk, including articles to proofread and real estate calls to make. To be honest, I was looking forward to a block of uninterrupted work time.
But green Lego.
We ended up watching the film together and discussing it afterward. It turned out to be one of the rare moments of quiet connection we had this summer.
My daughter tends to chat late into the night, just when I think I can’t possibly stay awake any longer. But I do. I’ll be there for her as long as she needs me.
They still require rides, guidance, and boundaries. Like newborns, they seem to be constantly hungry, and food disappears at an alarming rate, just like the toys of their childhood.
Embracing Change
But things are changing. We’ve navigated through so many stages of parenthood together. We’re moving towards new horizons, exciting adventures, and fresh beginnings. I plan to cherish every moment, not rush through them. Watching a movie, sharing a conversation, even if it means putting my own tasks on hold—that’s perfectly okay.
It’s what every parent desires, right? Independent children. My mother reassures me that my kids will always need me, just as I still need her, and that each phase brings its unique challenges.
I suppose I wasn’t ready for how swiftly this un-neediness would hit. It’s like time is moving at warp speed when you’re a parent. The “lasts” come at you like asteroids in a chaotic universe.
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Summary
This reflection on parenthood captures the bittersweet transitions as children grow and become more independent. The author shares personal anecdotes about the fleeting nature of childhood, the nostalgia of past activities, and the importance of cherishing remaining moments together. As the author navigates the changing dynamics of their relationship with their children, a sense of acceptance emerges about the inevitable growth and independence that comes with parenting.