Parenting
Today brought a tough realization: my once formidable mommy strengths—the abilities that helped me chase away imaginary monsters, stop toddlers from turning the living room into a diaper cream canvas, and shield my children from using their heads as battering rams—are diminishing as my kids reach the ages of 16, 13, and 10.
Sure, there was the time I failed to notice my then three-year-old, Max, had transformed the cream carpet into a race track with a red Sharpie, or when my ten-year-old, Leo, decided to carve the names of his favorite band into his new dresser. But even the mightiest heroes have their off days. As long as my kids were healthy and safe, I felt like I was managing.
A few years back, I began to notice my efficiency in snack-making was under scrutiny. My kids started to comment that my driving routes in the family car to their after-school events weren’t the quickest. They had suggestions on how to do things better. No worries, I reminded them that I was their mom, not their personal assistant, and taught them how to whip up their own snacks. I also reinforced that the driver gets to decide the route—if they didn’t like it, they could choose not to go to their friend’s house or practice.
Deep down, I contemplated upgrading my mommy strengths to include increased patience and a turbo mode for snack prep. I found myself reminiscing about the days when everything I did for my children felt enchanting and flawless. Yet, I also felt pride watching them grow and gain independence.
Then came the moments where my ability to answer their profound questions faltered. Questions about why grandfathers age and move into assisted living, why loved ones face illnesses like cancer, or how someone could commit horrific acts in a school or church. My powers were truly tested. I realized that some burdens are beyond a mother’s explanation. All I could do was listen and reassure them of their safety—even when doubt lingered in my own heart. I may not be able to erase their pain, but I can help ease it.
Now, two of my children have outgrown me in height, and I can no longer lift my youngest, Ethan, to tuck him into bed after he dozes off watching TV downstairs. My eldest is considering college, and within a year, he’ll be able to legally sign documents and vote. Each day, he moves further away from my once all-encompassing mommy strengths.
As I reflect on what lies ahead for him and my other kids—navigating a world that is both exciting and daunting—I sometimes wish I could halt time. There are moments I’d trade anything to keep them small forever—to make their hurts vanish with a kiss or to banish nightmares with a simple song.
Today, it dawned on me that I’ve been viewing this all wrong. I’m not losing my powers; I’m passing them on. Sometimes I do so willingly and lovingly; other times, my kids have to wrestle them away. But in reality, these special strengths were never solely mine to keep.
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In summary, as children grow, they take on more responsibilities and capabilities, allowing mothers to transition from protectors to supporters, cherishing the evolving relationship.