You think that 18 years is a long time. After all… YOUR first 18 years seemed to take 2 lifetimes to complete and it feels like ages ago that you were small…
And yet, time seems to speed up as you age and even more as you parent.
I remember when I was pregnant with her. At 21, I knew that my life was going to change dramatically. It was no longer going to fall in line with that of most of my peers and classmates. Naturally, I was a bit afraid… but not so much about what I would lose or how things would change… mostly I was afraid of messing up. I was afraid that I wouldn’t be a good Mom.
I didn’t plan on becoming a parent at such a young age and in such uncertain circumstances. But the moment I saw that blinking little bean, I wanted nothing more than to be the best mother I could be.
Holding my tiny newborn in my arms, she was my world. I remember saying to an old mom, “I hope I don’t make any mistakes.” “You will,” she said. And I was horrified.
But she was right. I would of course make many mistakes… everyone does.
1 week old and someone shamed me for not yet giving her a submersed bath… so I did. Forgetting that the reason I hadn’t, was because her umbilical cord hadn’t yet fallen off. It never did dry out properly after that and her pediatrician had to apply silver nitrate to get it off. I blamed myself for getting pushed into something my gut knew better. I vowed to never let that happen again… and I wish I could say that held true. Though the times I regretfully relented are few and far between. I’m pretty stubborn that way.
The days are long with little ones and the tasks are endless. No more running to the store just to pick up a few things… now it’s a production to find shoes, buckle car seats, push a cart and pull a toddler and battle the constant “I want”s. It’s so consuming, you often feel like you’ve lost yourself. No longer “Amanda” but “Mommy.” Every day, over-exerted and over-stimulated. You think you’ll be here forever. Still, you can’t help but watch them while they sleep.
You see other parents with school aged children and you think you have so much time… it seems like such a different world… busier almost and yet freeing… you can’t decide if you’re yearning for the break during the day or afraid of what lies behind those brick walls. It’s hard to believe your sweet little one will one day morph into the squawking and awkward, flailing limbs that race through the playgrounds and down the street.
But time holds for no one and somehow amidst the sleepless nights, endless messes and toddler tantrums… you find yourself buying crayons instead of sippy cups, picking out book bags and lunch boxes, meeting teachers and arranging play dates. It all happens so quickly. You see a mom with an infant and you realize that without even feeling it… you are the school aged mom… and time wasn’t so long after all.
And you are sucked into the time warp that is life and raising babes… one busy day running into the next.
You see other parents with older children and you hear their laments… the attitudes and the eye rolls and the constant pushing of limits and you think you have so much time before you are no longer their favorite person… but time goes faster when you age and faster still when you parent.
Soon one day… in the midst of surviving one school day, one parent-teacher conference, one soccer game to the next … you realize you are buying lip stick and razors. And play dates have morphed into “Hey Mom, I’m going to Maggie’s house!” And while you are thankful for their friendship and her confidence, you are skeptical of what happens there… “Who is going to be home?” You watch her walk down the street… “Text me when you get inside.” You’re relieved to prepare dinner without incessant interruption… but you watch the clock for them to come home. And then they call, “Hey, can I stay for dinner?”, while you stare at your own full pot. “Sure.”
You see the parents of teenagers and the bifold angst and independence they exude. Despite the occasional eye roll and sigh, yours still hold so much innocence and desire to please, you think surely, you have plenty of time before they turn into the aloof teens you’ve seen loitering the bus stops, convenient stores and basements. Surely, yours won’t curse or dress outlandishly or want a boyfriend for ages to come.
And then, seemingly overnight… their hormones take over and they are no longer the child they once were. Where you once ached for a moment alone, you now lie awake in worry over their absence. Big kids come with bigger challenges and you sigh at the things that used to upset you… like soggy umbilical cords and mismatched clothes. You are proud of their accomplishments and frustrated by their shortcomings, grateful for the time you have to yourself and terrified of the horrors that might await them. You’ve traded your fatigue for emotional exhaustion and you long for the days when life was simpler.
Yet that loveable awkwardness has melted into stunning beauty. She is more woman now than child and you revel at all that she is becoming, despite the pain.
Still, you see the parents of adult children and you think you have so much time. Highschool is this whole life phase, and yet it passes the quickest of them all. In the midst of new jobs, asking for rides and learning to drive, arguments about boundaries, and lessons learned hard… in one exhausting blow… 18 is staring you in the face and while you’ve silently been begging for relief… you are now simultaneously wishing they could stay and tearfully nudging them to go… relieved to have made it this far and wishing in some ways, you could start over and do it all again…
Hoping, praying, begging that I did a good enough job.
Every stage of parenthood brings with it more humility and you wonder how you’ve made it this far with so little instruction. Yet, you use this fact to excuse your mistakes… because by now, they are many.
I’ve said things I wish I hadn’t said… in a tone I wish I hadn’t used. I withheld things that I wish I had given… and I gave things that I wish I had withheld. I wish positive reinforcement came easier to me. And despite the fact that I wish I hadn’t been so afraid… I also wish I could have protected her more. And as hard as I worked to be home as much as possible and to be present in their every moment… as many fun trips, cool experiments and legendary parties as we had… I somehow I wish we had snuggled and read and played more.
I know that I am a good Mom. But I wish I were better.
Someone once told me that if you weren’t at least a little worried about being a good parent… then you probably weren’t doing it right. I suppose that is probably true.
Still I am proud of the life and the family we have built. I have two awesome kids, with awesome personalities. We road trip and have family game night. They smile for pictures and share both stupid memes and honest insight with me. They think I am both “kinda cool” and “stupidly strict”. They are kind to others and they love one another fiercely.
As she makes her plans to move forward and spread her wings, I want to cry and ask her to stay… but in doing so, I’d only convert the cause of my tears. For then, I’d be crying over her unfulfilled dreams. By now I’ve learned that their failures and successes have a direct tie to my heart… and frightening as their independence is, I must fight for their success… all the while, preparing in the event that they fail.
Despite every challenging moment, every difficult phase, every feeling of overwhelm, heartache and pain… despite the sacrifices and the endless worry… motherhood is still my greatest journey. I look in the mirror and I see the gray hairs, well earned. I look back on the memories and I know that we have lived and loved well.
And I know that it’s not over… Perhaps I’ll even look back on this post in 15 years with the same sigh I view my sorrows in last 15. I’m just sad that this chapter went by so fast.
18 years is a long time… you think.
