If I want to have anything that resembles mental health after my children leave the nest, then I need to get a grip. Pronto.
Here's the thing, philosophically, I know that my kids are getting older and with age comes increments of independence. As one wise parent once told me, "The years go by so fast, but the days go by sooooo slow." And so it's been: I've gone about life with the days creeping and the years flying, and like any other parent I've gotten caught up in the minutia of parenthood. All of the lovely, daunting, moving parts. Yesterday, I took a moment and looked up, and to my unpleasant shock, Sydney is suddenly two months away from turning 13.
Apparently, I'm not taking this news well.
Exerting her almost-thirteen-year-old independence, Sydney and her friend decided that they wanted to go to the mall and then see a movie. Alone. Which is a new thing. Very new. Painfully new. I compromised with her by telling her that I would be at the mall if she needed me, but she could do her own thing, which she was thrilled about. Soooo, off she went giggling through the mall....with my heart and my sanity dangling helplessly along in her back pocket.
In a fit of sheer lunacy, I spent an entire afternoon tailing her. Stalking her, really. Using surprisingly super ninja skills, I stealthily ducked into nearby stores, cautiously peeked over banisters, all the while being completely and unapologetically ready to spring out from behind one of those huge potted plants to tackle and flatten the first boy who might try to swoop in and flirt with her.
When we finally made it home (her giddy and none-the-wiser and me silently wondering if locking her in the house for the rest of her life really might be an option), I spent the evening in a deep state of melancholy, thinking that it would be nice to put the song "Time in A Bottle" on repeat, lay on the floor with the lights out and drink whiskey.
God, help me. The fierce love and vulnerability of motherhood has, once again, proven that it can turn me into a maniac. (And God help the first boy to break my daughter's heart. I feel like I should apologize in advance for shoving his face in the dirt.)
Ah, Mama Bear. . . Let me know when you need the whiskey and Time In A Bottle. I have both for the sharing. I feel your pain.
ReplyDeleteI'm so glad I have 2 boys! Not that I won't have any growing pains with them, but at least I won't need the shotgun by the door. Liam just turned 12 (and Finn 7) this month, and I already see what's in store for me! But if he thinks he gets the keys to the Hummer he's sadly mistaken!!
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