Mothering
“There is a certain oddity in this stage of life – when your children become adults and you are supposed to treat them as friends and peers. Your mind can grasp the concept, and it makes logical sense, but someone forgot to tell your heart about this adjustment.”
The Story Behind This Story
When you are raising children, your whole life revolves around the task. Sometimes you are filled with joy and pride while other times you can’t wait until they all grow up and leave the house! Still, no matter what age they are, they never stop being your children. My children are now in their 30s and 40s. They have given me 17 beautiful grandkids. But in a heartbeat, I can put myself back in this scene, the story called “Mothering”.
Dirt Farmer Maggie, March 2021
Mothering
Here I sit in a hotel room on our way back to Utah from a work trip in Arizona. We’ve had a long and busy trip and it’s nice to enjoy some quiet. Jay is asleep, and our two canine traveling companions are curled up at my feet. There is something so comforting about watching a sleeping dog. Every care of the day melts away as you watch their little chests rise and fall – and every once in a while, their eyebrows twitch – just to let you know that they’re still aware of your presence.
We had a rushed trip, as always. Rushing to get there, rushing all week at the conference, then rushing over to see our kids and grandkids before we rush back home so we can rush back to work.
I got to spend a few, ever so brief and precious hours with our three grown children and their families. There is a certain oddity in this stage of life – when your children become adults and you are supposed to treat them as friends and peers. Your mind can grasp the concept, and it makes logical sense, but someone forgot to tell your heart about this adjustment. I look at my adult children and I see the tear-stained cheeks that I kissed when they were hurting. I see the quirky faces they made with their friends during adolescence, I see the hurt in their eyes when they had a major disappointment and the sparkle when a dream came true. How can I separate those cherished images from the way I am supposed to view them now? How can I turn off my mothering and step back to take a lesser role in their lives?
“This is the circle of life. My mother had to let me go before I had to let them go and someday they will let their children go.”
This is the circle of life. My mother had to let me go before I had to let them go and someday they will let their children go. I handle it pretty well, this new role I am cast in, until it’s time to say good-bye. When I hold them in my arms, it doesn’t matter their age – whether they are taller than I – they are my blessed, beautiful children. Their form is familiar, and their smell is imprinted in my memory. To touch their hair and hold them close takes me back and they are my children. I breathe them in and hold them an extra minute – before I release them back to time and its seasons. But before I let them go, I swallow hard and find within me a smile and a strong constitution. I do it for them, so they won’t feel guilty for growing up and finding their own way in this world – and leaving me behind – as they should – as I did to my mother and she to hers.
I can hear my husband’s content breathing as he’s deep in sleep. My dog’s eyebrow twitches at me as if to say, “come to bed – the day has been a good one,” and I’m thankful once again for my rich life complete with children of all ages.
Still, if I had it my way, I would creep into their rooms tonight, sit on the edge of their beds and gently touch their foreheads. “Good night my Bethany, good night my Kelly, sweet dreams Brian, Mommy loves you John, Mommy loves you Taylor – Mommy loves you all…”
