My children are growing. They are doing what everybody else’s children are supposed to do: grow. It is glorious to behold and sad and so exhilarating at the same time. The first time they do something new, I rejoice. Then, I take a step back and analyze. They have never done this before. This is new. This signifies growth. Oh, they are growing before my eyes. Why am I sad?
I have asked other moms and they also say it is a bit sad to see children grow up. Do we not want them to lose their innocence? Their small size? Their cuteness? Maybe all of these combined and more.
This week, my daughter offered to clean the bathrooms. Again. I usually refuse because I feel uncomfortable with the thought. I think her too small and then I have to do double work, go behind her etc etc.
Lately, I have been praying for wisdom more than usual. And, just like that, when she offered to clean, I said, “Sure. Here’s the wipe.” It wasn’t hard. I stood by and corrected a few things she was doing. I also praised her for the rest. Together, we cleaned three bathrooms before she declared, “Mommy, you can clean the fourth sink.”
I had fun watching and teaching her, guiding her. This is not the same me from last week, I can tell you that. So, is it possible, I wonder, that I am also growing? Yes, I guess.
My son is seven and relished in the 24-hour period he spent without us, with a babysitter and his sister, while my husband and I took an overnight trip to Hot Springs. When I came back and saw how cool he was after our absence, I felt comfortable looking into summer camp. Then, I signed him up for it.
I go back and forth in my head now, regretting the step. But it’s too late. We told him he was going and he is excited. We paid. A friend even got a discount because she invited us to camp back in March. We can’t go back to not sending him. But I sure wish we could. Sometimes.