I notice a push lately with online articles on motherhood. It tends to center around the idea of always choosing to join in the experience with your child, to say yes, to be the fun mom at every opportunity. Be present! They're only little for a little while. Make memories. And document every memory with a picture or it's like it didn't even happen.
While I used to embrace it, I just can't anymore. I bought into those ideas when my children were small and for a season I orchestrated messy fun, outings to the park, play-dates with friends, blanket forts and literary circles under our maple tree. But a few weeks ago, when the Valentine party invite came home for my daughter's life skills school, I marked the box for "not attending". I have attended 14 Valentine parties in her school career and I'm tapping out.
I have teenagers and here's the thing, sometimes it's just enough that you're staying sane. Sometimes the biggest win for the day was not answering snark with snark in return. The victory came in the gentle answer that kept a situation from escalating. It might have been the love you showed by making your child his sandwich when you knew he was running behind with extra things to do that morning, even though he can pack his own lunch. The win for the day might have been not doing an audible gasp, but instead giving a calm and steady reminder when your teen driver became confused about who needed to yield before turning onto Lincoln Avenue.
I miss the camaraderie I had with the other moms during the little years. It was less lonely then. Now, friends may not respond to a text, busy with their own teens and the craziness that comes from driving kids to social engagements and sporting events. I used to be more than a little self righteous about how the teen years would look at our house-- we would not over-schedule. We would eat dinner as a family every night. We would strictly limit screens. Everything looks a little different and feels a little different. Tonight one of my boys fired up Gilmore Girls on Netflix to watch with me, and it felt incredibly sweet and thoughtful. The quality time wasn't at all how I envisioned it would be, but it's quality all the same.
I'm too tired right now to create magic. Yes, childhood is brief and
that's the point. They're not meant to stay. When I pull my oldest boy
down to hug his neck, I can't help but whisper, "I feel like we got you
home just in time to help you launch." Part of that breaks my heart a
little, but another part of me is ok with that. It's just how it's supposed to be.
