My 14-year-old son bursts into my home office, flinging his backpack aside and racing up the stairs without so much as a knock. He dives into the nearby chair, eager to share his thoughts on the science test he feels he aced and his plans for the upcoming weekend.
As my fingers pause over the keyboard, I fight the urge to finish my current paragraph. Instead, I close my eyes, save the document, and turn to my enthusiastic teenager. It’s not every day that he chooses to interrupt me, so when he does, I know I should cherish this moment.
When my children were younger, I longed for those precious minutes of uninterrupted time—time to enjoy my coffee while it was still warm, catch up with a friend on the phone, or even take a moment alone in the bathroom. Back then, the constant demands for my attention made it nearly impossible to accomplish anything meaningful.
I craved the chance to focus, to finish a task without a child pulling at my leg. So, as soon as they could grasp the idea, I taught my kids to wait patiently, knock on closed doors, and say “excuse me” when I was busy. They tried, but resisting their immediate urges was often a challenge, even when age-appropriate.
Eventually, they understood: unless there was a real emergency, interruptions could wait. Over time, my children became adept at holding off their requests. However, it wasn’t until they reached middle school that I realized their newfound restraint was also due to their growing independence.
At first, I rejoiced in this change. My children were becoming self-sufficient, capable of solving their own problems without my constant input. I finally had the time to ramp up my freelance projects and even squeeze in some exercise—freedom felt like it was within my grasp.
But as is often the case, the grass seemed greener on the other side. Now that my kids are occupied with school, sports, art classes, and socializing, I find myself with ample free time. While I appreciate the solitude, I can’t help but miss my children. It’s a bittersweet irony.
I miss the sound of their voices asking for help with simple tasks. I miss the warmth of their small bodies cuddled up next to me, even when I was trying to finish a quick email. I miss those chaotic moments spent on the floor surrounded by toys, and I miss preparing snacks like apple slices drizzled in honey or cutting the crusts off countless sandwiches.
Everyone tells parents that the days are long but the years are short, and I’ve found this to be undeniably true. With my children now navigating their teenage years, the time feels even more fleeting. I won’t preach about savoring every moment of motherhood—that’s unrealistic, especially during the challenging times.
However, I do want to embrace the interruptions that still occur. Soon enough, these kids will be off on their own adventures (and yes, I’ll probably cry then too). Until that time comes, I encourage them to interrupt me whenever they feel the need.
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In summary, as my children grow older, I find myself navigating the bittersweet landscape of motherhood, learning to embrace the rare interruptions that remind me of their presence in my life.