Today, I confronted a tough truth: my once-potent mommy superpowers—those special abilities that helped me eliminate imaginary monsters hiding under beds, prevent toddlers from turning rooms into art galleries with diaper cream, and stop kids from using their heads as battering rams—are not as effective now that my kids are 16, 13, and 10.
Sure, there were moments when I didn’t sense my powers were slipping, like the time my youngest, then three years old, decided to create a race track on our cream-colored carpet using a red Sharpie. Or when my ten-year-old thought it was a brilliant idea to carve the names of the Beatles into his new dresser. But even superheroes have their off days, and as long as the kids were breathing, I felt I was doing okay.
A few years back, I started to hear comments about my snack-prepping speed and my route choices in the mom-mobile. My children had opinions on how to get to their after-school activities faster. No problem, I told them—I’m a mom, not a magician or a maid. I encouraged them to whip up their own snacks and reminded them that the driver calls the shots. If they didn’t like it, they didn’t have to go!
Deep down, I pondered ways to upgrade my mommy superpowers, wishing for a boost in speed and a larger reserve of patience. I longed for the days when everything I did felt magical and seamless. Yet, I also found joy in watching them grow and become more self-sufficient.
Then came the moments when I realized I couldn’t answer every tough question anymore. Queries about why grandfathers age and move into assisted living, or why people we love face illness and death, left me stumped. My powers hit a wall. I learned that some questions are beyond a mother’s ability to explain. All I could do was listen and try to reassure them they were safe, even when I struggled to believe those words myself. While I might not be able to erase the pain, I could help ease it.
Now, two of my kids are taller than I am, and I can no longer carry my youngest to bed if he falls asleep on the couch. My eldest is contemplating college, and soon he’ll be able to sign documents and vote. With each passing day, he slips further from my grasp.
As I reflect on what lies ahead for him and my other children in a world that can be both beautiful and frightening, I sometimes wish I could freeze time. I yearn for the days when a simple kiss could wipe away their hurts, or when my presence was enough to banish nightmares.
But today, a light bulb went on: I’m not losing my powers; I’m giving them away. Sometimes willingly, sometimes through a little struggle, but those special abilities were never meant to be mine alone.
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In summary, as our children grow and begin to navigate the world independently, we may feel our powers waning. However, it’s essential to recognize that we are not losing these abilities but rather empowering them to take on their own challenges.
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