The house is clean, the laundry (that I am ignoring on the sofa) smells good, and the three youngest are watching some afternoon tv while their big sister and dad are off gallivanting in Atlanta for 2 days. Because we are down a couple people, every mom knows instinctively that I am not cooking, right? (Although, it dawns on me that even 2 people down I would be cooking for more people than my mom cooked for when everyone was home.) So I am perusing the internets, enjoying a quiet moment in my life. I think the combination of downtime, the time of year (almost a new one upon us!), and some of what I have read is making me think about things a bit. Also, some of the circumstances in our life probably.
See, sometime over the last month, apparently my last child/"baby" has become potty trained. And when I realized that, brace yourself and please hear me out after this statement, I was sad. I know, this seems crazy to me as well. But just a few months ago this fall, he started preschool 2 days a week. And 2 weeks ago, Ryah Layne turned 5. FIVE. Granted, she still looks 3, but the truth remains that she is not a preschooler any more. She also attends preK 4 mornings a week at the same school Adon does. And in 3 months, Kharis will turn 10. TEN. Finally, a month ago, I turned 35. All of these are markers I guess of some sort. How this has all happened when I was sleeping, I do not know. But it all adds up to one thing, and I think that is what is giving me trouble defining my feelings.
My children are growing up. I am growing older. I am no longer a mom to a bunch of "littles" as I have been for basically 10 years.
Hmmm.
I guess, after 10 years at it, I more or less know how to be and do this. I know what it will require, on a good day and a bad day, and though I truly fail at so much of it, I guess after failing enough times you become somewhat immune to the distress of failure. (This, btw, is NOT a good thing.) So as a result, there is far less fear and trepidation. Turmoil internally. And, because I know nothing if not how to get to a manageable level of "good enough" wherever I am, obviously over 10 years I have learned some lessons and skills that have made me better at "this" than I was 10 years ago. (If you know me, of course, you know full well that the emphasis in that phrase that has "guided" me though the years is far more on the 'enough' than the 'good.' Sigh.)
But the next stage?
That is entirely new.
I do NOT know what that will require of me. I do NOT know how bad or good I will be at it. I do NOT know how I will feel about myself and my family in that new stage.
Sometimes, I think to myself, If I am not "producing" babies and actively caring for them 24/7, what I am actually contributing?
I know that sounds silly. When I was typing it, it sounds even more so. When I have thought it I was surprised by it. But regardless, the thought has crossed my mind.
How do I feel about being an "older" woman? How do I feel about my kids being far more self sufficient? How do I feel about being more, shall we say, on the margin?
It's a weird, new feeling. One I am still working through. There are of course lots of up sides here. I did NOT cry when we threw away the diaper genie that sat outside on our garage landing to greet us with a simply delightful scent every time we came home or left the house. I do NOT cry on Tuesday and Thursday mornings when for 3 blissful hours I have time to myself to go to the grocery store and the Target and the tailor and the cleaners and everywhere else that I may need to go, and also, shhh, please don't tell anyone, but sometimes just to sit by myself somewhere quiet and read or meet a friend for coffee without having to chase someone or call someone down or be interrupted 986 times in the first 10 minutes! And JD and I definitely do not cry when we can tell the girls, at least, to go get themselves ready and in bed and we will be up to kiss them and read the bible in a few and they actually go do it (though Allie, of course, will get sidetracked for a while. It is a law of science.) But all the good is mixed with some, ah, different, and I am just trying to figure out what that means.
Time will tell, that is what they say, right? I hope, no, I pray, desperately, that time will tell a good story. I hope if I read this when I am 50, I will have some good thoughts for my 35 year old self. We shall see what the Lord does in these next 10-15.
I am hoping to write a little something soon about my little Ryah Layne's fifth birthday and about who she is these days (something I wish I'd had the blog for when Kharis and Allie turned 5!) but as you know, with me there are no guarantees, because I am a bad blogger. In fact, I think bad does not do it justice, but we will leave it at that for today.
