As a Mom of four, I’ve known from the start that my job was to love, guide and prepare my tiny babes to someday be wildly capable of living their lives without me. Sounds a bit depressing, doesn’t it? As our youngest heads excitedly into her Senior year, I’m once again caught up in all the feels and reminiscing has become a daily pastime for me. Each year sprints by faster and I try my best to balance looking back with fondness and looking forward with anticipation. It amazes me how the days and years have so easily melted together, and here I am at 50, and wondering how in the world I am just a few more branches away from an empty nest.
We lived through Baby Bootcamp, the exhaustion of Elementary School, and the drama of Jr. and Sr. High, and it clearly didn’t dawn on me that this would all abruptly end one day. Even though it was obvious things would eventually change, our emotions have somehow convinced us that certain situations will last “forever”. When we are sleep deprived, we are positive that we will NEVER again feel rested, and after the 5th accident of the day, we know for a FACT that our son will be in a pull up on his wedding day. And yet, with each new day, we get a bit more rest and we begin to make it to the potty on time, and time marches on. We blink and our children have grown and their challenges have changed. We continue to pray, guide, and actively involve ourselves in their lives, but the relationship is not as it was. We are no longer as crucial, as necessary, as sought out – and that’s OK and how life works. Well, shame on you, life, for blind-siding us like this, even though we were active participants the entire time.
Our society encourages “letting go” as our children grow. I have always thought this to be complete malarkey. I am entirely too invested to “let go” at this point. Seriously? Let go? With all of the meal planning, house cleaning, nightmare soothing, faith training, bath giving, education advocating, relationship counseling and event coordinating I’ve done? Let go, my foot! I have poured my life into these crazy yahoos – you can’t get rid of me that easily! I prefer to instead loosen my grip. Watching from the sidelines instead of being a crucial part of the game. Still needed, but not as much – and again, this is what the end goal was – RIGHT?
See? All the feels. I feel blessed that I have others to confide in that are feeling equally expendable in their Mom careers. We fluctuate in reveling in the relief that our name is no longer called out 150 times a day, simultaneously wishing our children would reach out to us more. We look at our children with both pride and disbelief. When, exactly, Father Time, did this happen, and how did we carry on, oblivious to it all? I’m encouraged when I see other families maintain a strong bond as their children grow and create families of their own. I know it can be done, and done well – and that is my goal for the future.
The day arrived, and we met at the tattoo shop after work. After discussing the image at length via text, other than signing the required papers before the tattoos, there wasn’t a lot of prep to be done. We all laughed when I asked a few questions regarding the paperwork I was signing, and the tattoo artist admitted that “Most people don’t even read that, they just sign it !”. Well, not this girl! After learning about the care of our new tattoos, we both decided that I’d go first. I knew that once we started the process, I would pick out something to focus on and use my Lamaze breathing to get me through it. For me, when I’m in a new, stressful, or painful situation, it’s easier if I don’t talk. I was happy to find that it wasn’t as painful as I had expected. After having four babies and several kidney stones, this was a piece of cake – and yes, I fully realize that my tattoo is teeny tiny! Hannah preferred for me to chat her up as she got her tattoo, my stories and laughter helping to distract her, but she was also surprised how little it hurt. We did it!!!
How often do we critique ourselves, or is it just me? Questioning our choices, performances, or motivation is a pretty common phenomenon. We are, I’ve heard, our own worst critic. I try my best to be an encourager – to point out the good in others, to praise when things are done well, to give thanks when I am grateful. But I don’t typically do the same for myself – and you might not, either. After choosing intentional as my word of the year for 2023, I am becoming more aware of my own self talk, and to be honest, I’m kind of a meanie. I often dwell on mistakes or recall situations that could’ve been handled differently. I’m now focusing more on what has gone well, what I’m proud of, and what I’d like to see continue. As I grow in this direction, I saw a writing prompt that looked helpful “Name three personality traits that you are proud of”. Making myself look for positive attributes of my personality was just what I needed – and I assume you need it, too! I hope you will join me and at the very least make a list of personality traits that make you proud. We all need reminders of the great job we are doing as we push through this crazy thing called life!
Each year, I think long and hard about what my word of the year should be. I was “this close” to repeating my word from 2022 – worthy – something I had never done in my previous eleven years of choosing a word. The word worthy brought me so many lessons, and I was hesitant to move on without it. Nonetheless, I poured over lists of potential words until one made me stop in my tracks – intentional. The dictionary defines intentional as an adjective, meaning “done on purpose; deliberate”. Now, as a TYPE A personality, I feel that most of what I do in life is thought out, planned and on purpose. But was I living an intentional life? It appears I will be finding this out in 2023.
The past few years have changed many things, including expectations that we all had for our every day lives. Talk was rampant about the “new normal” which I refuse to accept in any way, shape, or form. Control was taken away regarding our school hours, work locations, and shopping options. Weeklong to the familiar, unless we chose to let it go, finally excepting that are all the ways may not have been the best for us. As we begin a new calendar year, I will yet again choose a word to reflect on for the next 12 months. This process has served me well, and I am sharing my word with you in hopes of perhaps spreading some hope in a challenging time for all of us.
Have you ever devoted years (I’m talking more than 20) to a cause, person, or goal, and then wept when success was at hand? We experienced sacrifice, fatigue, and exasperation as we did our best to navigate through years of uncertainty Finally, as we see the culmination of our efforts, we strongly desire to sneak off to our bedroom and cry. Welcome to parenting. Parenting: a job given by God to raise independent humans that will in someway change the world. From the day that babe is first placed in our arms, we are working full-time to ensure that someday this tiny one can fend for himself, going about his daily tasks without a care in the world, without the help of his mom. The nerve.
I have always loved walking. For me, more than anything, walking is a way for me to de-stress and clear my mind. It was a saving grace, that when life in general was cancelled at the start of the pandemic, my walking could continue. In fact, going outside each day and walking in my neighborhood and the surrounding area gave me something to look forward to (and also an excuse to break out of my house!). On average, my walks are between 2 and 5 miles. Each night before bed, knowing that I will be walking the next day, I make sure to charge my phone, my Apple Watch, and my ear buds. I would definitely say that walking has become part of my weekly routine.
word love 