It’s easy to know you’re a kid since you’re small, and your age hasn’t reached double digits. You can’t reach the sink yet, or even the counter, and you play with toys all day. It’s simple to know you’re a teenager because the word teen is right their in your description. The twenties, thirties, and forties are usually easy to figure out-you’re a parent, and not just A parent, you’re mommy. Not one second of your life is really yours. Not that you mind, you asked your Higher Power to bestow these little dream angels into your care. I would say eighty percent of the time, I was infatuated with my kids. I loved the way they thought, and smelled, and talked, and figured things out, and got the whole puzzle done.
I would take turns snuggling with each of them. If I was lying on the couch with one, the other two were on the floor playing. I loved all the daily motherly chores. Different chores for different ages. I was a mom. Just what I always wanted to be.
These little cherubs kept growing, and maturing, and changing. They could zip their jackets and tie their shoes and comb their hair and take their baths. I didn’t have to do any of that anymore. And that part, was more than fine with me. I could take a shower without an infant seat on the floor, and I could go up in my room and talk to a friend while they watched tv downstairs, no more whining for me to do anything, no more worrying about them getting into anything, or getting hurt. This was getting good.
Then, of course, came the rebellious stage, and the weird clothes and low school grades, because school was stupid. And, while cleaning, there was the occasional uncovering of something they shouldn’t have in their room , or anywhere, and I certainly didn’t want to see it. I always discussed each find with them, and dealt with it accordingly. This stage of "momdom" was getting harder. Then came the licenses and the cars. Oh, that has to be the worst, it was for me. Almost every kid who gets their license thinks they are invincible. They can drive fast since they’ll never get caught, and a deer would never run in front of them!
I took my daughter out driving, she did well, she passed her test, got her license, and now scares me with her heavy foot. I took my son out, and it was a nightmare. After the first few times, I had someone else take him out. After thinking about it, I realized that if I was afraid of him driving, I should teach him myself, and keep going with him until I felt comfortable. Whoa was that a feat in itself. We fought most of the first week, then, he began to get the hang of it and be more careful, and we actually had nice talks. I knew he was going to speed, he was invincible, and cool, and all the kids did it! I got the midnight call. He had rolled his pickup truck twice, wasn’t hurt, but every window imploded, and he had to crawl out the driver’s side window, upside down! He yelled while we were in our frustrating driving lessons stage, when I told him to always go slow around a corner, especially in the rain. Well, he went too fast, around a sharp corner, in the rain!
Then we have the piercings. Idiots I say. Cool to them, though, and I don’t judge, I say idiots because of the pain, the holes can close up. We’ve got fishnet stockings again, and crowd surfing, where these kids generally get dropped on their heads, and punched in the face. and can’t wait to go back the next week.
So, my kids are basically full grown at nineteen and twenty one, but because they still live at home, I get to see all these 2007 fads and fashions. My son shaved his head for months, not all the way down, he left a little black fuzz, and then he let it grow long again, and one night while I was on my computer, he came down to show me his new mohawk! Thankfully, that didn’t last too long. Another morning, I got to answer his question of, "notice anything different?" "Yeah, you have a silver ring curling around the inside of your nose." Idiot. This time for real!
So, I have a sixteen year old who will be going through his own thing, the nineteen year old, and the twenty one year old. No more babies. Now what do I do? I still clean the house and do the laundry and go grocery shopping, but the time it took to tie shoes and zipper jackets and do puzzles, and answer a thousand questions, is gone. The three bedrooms I used to clean to perfection, every toy lined up just so, I won’t even go into anymore. I have put the empty moments into a writing class I enjoy, and writing stories for people to read. I went out to dinner with a friend tonight. I can take a nap in the afternoon if I’m tired. I’ve earned the good fortune of living life for myself, as well as my kids.
Who am I now? I am a mother, a person with compassion, and passion and intelligence and plenty of story ideas. I am a rock my kids always know will be standing behind them. I am someone looking forward to my kids getting older and starting families of their own. I am definitely looking forward to being a grandmother. I am a friend to some really great women. I can read, I can write, I can go out, I can stay in. It took years, but I can finally lay down and sleep when I am tired. Life is good at 50. I am me, and I’ll strive to be the best me possible.
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