Parenting is all about transitions. That initial transition that makes you a parent in the first place, the transition from one child to two, the transitions off the breast, out of diapers, out of the cribs and strollers. The transitions when the children first start going to school. It was harder when Lex started school, as the first, but I’ll admit I cried for several days when Eve started preschool even though the hours were very short. This summer feels like a big transition to me as well. The obvious reason, of course, is that they will both be in school full time in 18 days, but that’s not really it.
For seven years now I have been saying “I have young children.” This summer it hit home that I do not have two young children, just two children. A subtle difference, in text, but so huge in my heart. I know they will need me for years and I don’t mean to be a whiner here, but it’s hitting me hard. Their needs for me are changing. They no longer need me to diaper them or dress them or bathe them. They are fully capable of making the four dishes they eat for all of their meals. (I realize they do need me to teach them about eating a balanced diet, but I seem to be failing in that department!) They went to camp together this summer, happily. They put their own bathing suits on, navigated the locker room and sunscreen applications. They do solitary playdates now. They play outside on their own. They are just so darn independent!
Yesterday was a nice cool day and I thought it would be a good day to make a big batch of blueberry jam. A process they have, in the past, eagerly and happily helped me with. Instead they played a super elaborate game together all morning! That’s great, right? It is. Really. But I did miss them in the kitchen. I was lonely. Is that pathetic?! Eve has been asking to make blueberry cake and when I invited her into the kitchen to bake with me she said, “No thanks, I’m busy.” Sigh.
I am entering a new season in parenting and apparently I’m not sure how to prepare for it. I feel like I rocked the baby stage, but now I’m not sure what comes next. I need to find the next guidebook. “What to Expect When They Grow Up,” perhaps?
if you keep journaling so wonderfully, perhaps you can write that book…bill collier gave dad a book of essays about the empty nest syndrome a few years ago, maybe you can write one about the transitions of the earlier years…tom is sitting here recalling taking you to syracuse…feeling like ‘i was losing my best friend’..
change is hard, but change is good…
I cried last month when Barno finally transitioned to his own bed. You’d think I’d be more than ready after ten years of sharing with squirmy kids. But, oh, it hurt.
I echo your mother’s statement – you could write that book! On a different note, maybe it’s time to rediscover your interests? Start taking care of Tessa while simultaneously being among the world’s greatest moms? :)