Monday, August 5, 2013

And then there was one....

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On August 24th my Shaner will be moving out. He and a friend of his have found a place and he's ready to spread his wings. And again I am torn. My heart is aching and full of pride at the same time.  Having kids is such an amazing and heart wrenching journey.




When they first burst into your life screaming, peeing, never sleeping little monsters you're both amazed and horrified. You can't believe that this little human being lived inside of you for nine months. You take your little bundle home and settle in for a good rest because you're exhausted from the trial of giving birth. And then they cry. They cry when they're hungry, when they're sleepy. They cry when they want held, when they need changed. They cry over everything. And you're pretty sure you're going to go crazy because it's been two weeks since you brought this little angel/devil home and you're not sure if you're ever going to sleep again. But mixed in with these moments of insanity are also moments of intense joy. Like when you're feeding your baby and it wraps it's tiny hand around your pinky finger.  And you marvel at the tiny fingers, toes, eyes, ears, and mouth.  Or maybe the first time they smile at you and your heart feels like it's going to explode inside your chest. In a single year you'll see such a marvelous transformation. Sleeping through the night for the first time, holding up their head, rolling over, crawling, pulling up, walking, getting teeth, begining to verbalize. So much happens and it goes so quickly. And you look back at the end of that year and can't believe how far they've come.

Then they become a toddler and when they aren't trying to climb to the very top of your house you're sure they're trying to kill themselves. They'll stick their fingers into anything that is open, just because they can. Everything goes into the mouth and you're forever saying, "No," and "Stop that!"  And sometimes you forget that this rambunctious little being is the center of your world. Because you're tired and you're frustrated and you just want a break. And you sit down to cry and little hands touch your face and a tiny voice says, "Why you tryin' mama?" And you smile and say something silly to make them laugh. And you realize how much they've grown in such a short time.

Soon they're prepubescent, which is basically a fancy word for 13 going on 30.  They talk back, they're asserting their independence more. And you're ready to scream. You'll gladly go back to that toddler stage and pull them down off the top of the refrigerator or save them from hanging on to the shower head because at least then you ruled the world. At that point in time you were always right and never wrong. And tensions build. But you watch them become young men and women. You go to ball games and scream like a crazy woman. And though they blush and act like you're the most embarrassing person in the world, you know that secretly they love it. So you scream all the louder. You ride bikes with them, play board games. You take walks and talk about things you couldn't talk about before.

Then they become teenagers. And they can do things for themselves, and for you. And it's a wondrous and terrifying time again. Because having their help is awesome. But now more than ever they don't want to be treated like your child. They're "adults" and don't mind telling you. Often and loudly.   And you struggle for that perfect balance of letting them make their own mistakes and still being the parent that they need you to be whether they realize it or not. And you go on date nights. And they confide in you. And they tell you how much they love you.  And you cherish every moment because you know they'll be gone all too soon.

And then they are. And you have to trust that you did all that you could. That you raised them to the best of your ability with the help and grace of the good Lord. And you just have to believe that they'll be ok. And that's the hardest part. The letting go part. Because how do you just let go of someone that you have nurtured and cared for for 18 years or more. How do you set them loose in the world and trust that they'll be ok?  You pray. And you worry, and call, and stress. And they tell you to "chill out mama".



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