The Truth about Parenting

(My tiny babies)

Next week, Aidan and Chloe start their second year of high school and middle school, respectively.  

Sometimes when I think of my kids, I forget how much they've grown. I remember instead the little people I gave birth to and nursed and rocked to sleep. The people I swaddled and snuggled and threw birthday parties for year after year. The people who are now measuring taller and almost taller than I am. 

They're still kids, but they're growing up, too - and I never know how to put those two things together. 

Last week, Aidan passed the test to get his learner's permit (the first step toward driving here in WV), and I was so excited for him until I realized something: 

My kid will be driving...which means I'll see a lot less of him soon. They start driving, and eventually they drive away, right? All of a sudden "eventually" seems a little too close. 

In June we went on vacation to Alabama. The condo we visited had a beautiful saltwater pool, and we went swimming every day. Every day, I saw moms of toddlers bring their little ones to swim and felt a little wistful. Taking tots to the pool is an exercise in patient attention: slathering babies in sunscreen, outfitting them with floaties and puddle jumpers, and chasing them around the periphery of the pool while shouting, "Slow down, honey!" As I watched those mamas, I suddenly missed having little ones. 

But then again I didn't. 

To be honest, my own kids hardly needed watching at all. I let them apply their own sunscreen and bring their own towels and only told them "careful" when their pool play turned into all-out warfare. I watched them swim on their own and didn't worry about whether they were getting overtired or sunburned or too close to the deep end. 

I didn't worry at all. 

And from where I stand now, I can already see that every stage of parenting has its own challenges and its own beauty. When they were little, my kids snuggled and talked and clung to me more, and I loved those moments. But they also needed more attending, more monitoring and care and intervention. At this age, they get silent sometimes and snuggle far less. But they also make their own lunches and wash their own hair, and although they may talk less, the truth is we converse more. 

I remember the early days of motherhood, longing to have an adult conversation with another human being when Darryl was at work. Now, I can have those conversations with my kids. 

I've heard it said that to look at your child is to see a vision of the past, present, and future all at once. 

And every piece of that vision has its own pain and its own joy. 

(Even the piece when your baby boy starts driving.) 

Feeling all the feelings today, 

Becki