We are working ourselves out of our jobs.
The thing about being a mom, is that if you do it well, you are basically working yourself out of a job in 18-20 years. This is a fact that has both given me solace and angst as the years creep by. I will admit, there have been days I have allowed myself to fantasize about having a home free of toys, juice boxes and mystery stains. I have envisioned my proverbial empty nest, and on a few very hectic, crazy, mom-heavy days it looks very appealing. But the truth is, that on most days I am joyously heartbroken as I have to sit by and witness my children growing into the adults they will eventually become. Being a mother is a wonderfully painful experience. While I am thrilled my offspring are reaching milestones, it occurs to me that they are now one more step closer to leaving me. Like the end of a really great party, you know it is coming, but it doesn't make it any easier when it does.
First it was the walking-talking-no diaper thing and then came getting dressed by themselves, first sleep over and the even their first conversation we have while they ride in the front seat of the car. And just this week, I dropped my eleven year old son off at his first boy-girl party. A party where his new 'girlfriend' would be, and he would be anxious as he pulled out a rainbow colored pukka shell necklace he bought for her over the Spring Break. She would kiss him on the cheek and tell him he was 'too sweet'. Later, on the ride home he would confess to me that the whole thing made him a little nauseous and sweaty, so he offered to go get her a soda so he could catch his breath. I sit there in the dark car,l it only by the fluorescent street lights, listening to his sweet pre-puberty voice telling me about the dancing and the fun he had that night. I watch his yet-to-be shaven face light up when he talks about how one of his friends fell in the pool while trying to do a new dance move to impress the girls. I can do nothing but sit back and marvel how far he has come; and how many milestones he has already reached.
Time keeps moving. And these children of mine, keep growing with or without my permission. So I listen to him recount excitedly the nights events and I thank God for the boy sitting next to me. I thank God I have been given this job as his mother, even if it is only a temporary position.
This is an original Orange County Moms Blog post.
Marcy Massura is a mother, author, photographer and a humorist. You can read more at her other home on the internet; The Glamorous Life Association