That feeling that my boys don’t really need me: I don’t like it.
This past week has been an interesting experiment since my oldest was away visiting relatives. His first unaccompanied flight, first time away from me for so long.
There he went, off in a plane. I’m happy to say that by the time you’re reading this, he’s most likely back home.
And though I really haven’t ever doubted our decision to get him a phone a few months ago, I was really thankful for it during this trip so he could easily tell me what he was doing and how he was feeling. A 10 year old explaining that he misses his mama by using emojis is pretty freaking adorable.
But of course, he’s fine. He’s becoming so grown up.
I’m proud. So proud that he can do so many things on his own.
Though it makes me think of the days that are coming much sooner than I’d like when he can do it all on his own. When asking me for help or my opinion isn’t going to be on his mind at all or maybe just a fleeting thought.
It’s what we want: for our kids to grow up and be amazing adults who can do things on their own. Amazing, incredible things.
And yet, I still want him to be my baby.
I knew this was all coming at some point- that parents start out holding on so tight because their babies need it and then we have to gradually let go. But that point always seemed so far off in the future.
But I can look into the face of my tween and see that the letting go is already having to happen, that my hold is still there, but it’s loosening. Loosening so that he doesn’t notice I’m still there and push me away, but still there in case he needs me.
How did we get here already?
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