August 17, 2015
You Do What You Have To Do

Number two son has flown the nest.  It's inevitable, yet when it actually happens it can hit you like an elephant sitting squarely on your chest.  You try to pretend that everything is fine, but for some reason, you just can't breathe.  And your vision is somehow blurred more often than usual.  You find yourself lost in a reverie of 19 years of life's files more often, thinking back to those days long ago.  Where did they go and how did that little one get to be a man so soon?

It's all natural, it's all good, and it's just life.  We all move on in one way or another, but that doesn't change the fact that the transition can be definitely bittersweet.

Days, merely days, ago I was walking with that youngster to his first day of kindergarten. Or so it seems I guess.  Eager for school, excited about learning, and always ready to go, he loved those school days.  And whether we will admit it, those first-day-of-schools are most often hardest on Mom. Giving your youngster over to the capable care of his teacher isn't an easy thing to do.  But we do it and walk away, blurred vision nonetheless, and don't look back.  

I've experienced that over and over again.  After the first few times, you just know when to walk on, brush it off.  When your child hits the ground with a sickening "thud", there's something in you that just wants to run and mother him and to take away the pain.  Another part of you says to bite your tongue, don a smile and tell him that he's alright. "Get back up", you tell him, "you'll be just fine."   It's frightening. You learn to bury that fear pretty quickly when you become a mother.  How else can your child learn the tough lessons in life if he never experiences pain? The pain is yours alone.

Your child, as he grows, develops into an independent, thinking individual. That, at times, can be heartbreaking and joyful at the same time. (I'm thinking the "terrible twos" or the "frightful fives" or the TEEN years).   But you know that you have done your job right when your child becomes a confident, caring, responsible young adult.  And you let go. And he flies.

He might not want to hold your hand anymore and you might not be needed on the first day of school  like you once were, but you'll be there for him anyway.  And when he hands you his loved-to-rags baby blanket and asks you to fix it for him, well then life's just the way it should be.  You know that you have done something right along the way.