Last week our oldest son, Robbie, turned 18 years old. It hit me hard. 18?!? How did this happen? How did we get here so fast? There were many tears shed as I scrolled through his baby scrapbook and photos I have on Snapfish and Shutterfly. As the saying goes, the days are long, but the years are short.
Motherhood is HARD, both physically and mentally. Nothing wears you down more than a toddler on the run 24/7 or a teenager who argues every single point. There is a reason I love to get up early even on the weekends, for 30 mins or so of quiet while I drink my coffee. I love those boys, but boy, sometimes silence is golden! As a Mom, I have questioned most decisions I have made for these kids. That in and of itself is exhausting!
Growing up, my parents always told me not to wish my life away. As Robbie (and Nicholas) were growing up, I would say the same thing. Though, I think I said it more for myself than them. Subconsciously I thought the more I said it, the more time would slow down. Boy, was I kidding myself.
Growing up these days is much different than when I grew up. Kids are always on the go, and my boys were no exception. Robbie played t-ball, soccer, baseball and then found hockey. Just last night, I was thinking of how many days we spent on the ice each year. For six years, from August to April, hockey was our life. There were early, early mornings and late, late nights on the ice. There were times I was in no mood. I would work all day and have to be at an ice rink, 30 mins away, for a 9:00 pm practice. Though I never wished the days away, because I knew how damn fast they would be over.
When Robbie entered high school, four years seems like an eternity. Yet, those four years have gone by faster than any others. Not only did he turn 18 this week, but he also finished up his college applications. He works a part-time job, he is growing a beard (despite his mother’s protests), he drives himself to and from places, and this weekend he is in NOLA to see a football game with my sister. I don’t see him as much as I would like because when he is home, he is hiding out in his room. However, I suppose this is preparing me for what the future holds. This time next year, I will be anxiously waiting for him to come home for winter break. I can only imagine the emotions I will be feeling then.
From the moment he was placed in my arms, he was mine. He was my baby boy. I would love him, protect him, and show him the world. What I didn’t realize until very recently was that he was not mine to keep. Though I would always love him, he was meant to spread his wings and fly. I recently read a blog post over at scarymommy.com. It said, “You know the minute you become a mother that someday, you will have to let that baby go. You know that they are not yours to keep, not forever. If you do your job right, you make yourself obsolete. That’s the goal. That is the point”. I don’t necessarily agree with the obsolete part, but I do understand her point. As parents, we give our kids what they need to go out into the world. We hope what we have taught them is enough. I hope they have the tools to make the best decisions for themselves and their future, for they are not ours to keep.
