All Is Grace

i had babies once. in my mind, it wasn’t very long ago. in my mind, those babies are all still pretty little. so when i yell up the steps, “OK, small children, it’s time for dinner!” and i get no responses, i quickly remember why. because, duh, mom, we’re so not small children. whatever you’re saying does not apply to us.

oh. yeah. huh.

they’re right.

(no, they really don’t do that. it doesn’t even faze them (they have their earbuds in, or they’re blasting their music, or they’re engrossed in legoworld, or simply ignoring me)…but i am reminded in a hundred other ways along with that one every day that they are no longer little. at all.)

Like…

…when i am so out of practice with babies that it takes me a couple of weeks to remember that letting them cry for a few seconds isn’t going to kill them. or me.

…when i realize that both of my daughters look me in the eye when standing in front of me…or i have to look up to look into theirs…and they both wear bigger shoes than i do.

…when my son let’s me know that in 8 years, he’ll be in college. (WHAT??)

…when the girls chime in, “oh, yeah! in FIVE years, we’ll be in college!” (shut. up.)

…when the oldest gets her first babysitting job.

…and then lets me know that if she’s old enough to babysit, she’s old enough to have a later bedtime (nice try, sweet girl.).

…when the middle loses her final baby tooth (even though she still wrote a letter to the tooth fairy)(to which she received a lengthy reply)(she even asked her what to do about the boy she likes!!!)

…when the baby…only has 6 left to lose.

…but i digress.

i had babies once. they are no longer babies. far from it. they are big. and i know it by their words. their actions. their looks. their attitudes. and the fact that i no longer know what to do with babies. (hehe…or them.)

maybe there’s something to all this: maybe i’m just realizing that all the stuff i thought i was so good at was just plain old dumb luck. it’s possible! i was the baby whisperer for a few years. hand me your baby now, and forget it. he or she is going to cry for his or her respective mommy. throw a preschooler my way, and i have forgotten how to play. i can color and draw for them, but i don’t remember how to make believe. plunk a tween next to me, and i’m suddenly completely uncool. and teenagers???

don’t even get me started.

in my prideful real-life reaction, i like to attribute my current lack of expertise to the fact that i’m out of practice or, in the case of the teenagers, i’m just not experienced in parenting them. but in the reality of the situation, i think i’m just tired. i’ve been doing this for so long…raising my kids…raising everybody else’s kids part-time (or full-time)…running to help and serve and teach…i’m tired. the problem is that my kids aren’t grown up yet. being tired just isn’t an option. fourteen years isn’t long enough. whether i’m tired or not.

so last week, i made a decision. i’m all done with the other junk. they deserve more than a tired, guilt-ridden, can’t-figure-them-out-anymore momma. they deserve what i gave them when they actually still physically needed me…because now, though they physically need me less, they still need me. they need my availability when they do need me. and i haven’t been able to give that to them.

i can now. no more babysitting. all done. cakes come one at a time, not 6 in a weekend. stuff gets scheduled and done. routines matter. my family wins.

my family wins.

the end.