The long dance

Another oldie:

Motherhood adj.

 

Here is the latest update on things at The Zoo.  The kids are chafing at the bit because there are only nine school days left, then it’s summertime and the livin’ is easy, as the song goes.

I suddenly realized that with Number One Son going to university and even Number Two Son, my baby, in high school, I am now the mother of “young adults.”  It’s a strange and frustrating time of life for a mother.  Let me explain:

Number One Son knows more than God now, and Number One Daughter is starting to know almost as much as he does (not to mention that Number Two Son was born knowing everything), so I feel a tad superfluous when I try to tell them anything.

You’d think they would appreciate the gems of wisdom, the hard-earned and valuable lessons of life, that I am willing, out of the kindness of my heart, to share with them.  Yet I know by the vacant look that immediately appears in their eyes that they’re humoring the old girl again, and that every word is going in one ear and out the other.

Sometimes I would like to grab them, sit them down in a row in front of me and yell, “Fools!  Your mother knows what she’s talking about!  Why insist on learning the hard way, taking the knocks, when it could all be so much easier.  All it would take is a few tips from someone who’s been there, done that.  Yes, children; believe it or not, I’m referring to ME, your MOTHER!  I wasn’t always tied to your diaper pins, you know.  One time long ago, I was actually your age, believe it or not.  Listen and learn.”

Of course, the problem is that, when I stop to think about it, I do understand how it is.  I remember all too well being that age myself.

And I guess it’s a good thing they think they know it all, because otherwise they’d never have the courage to break away and start their own lives.

Sigh.

Motherhood:  a long dance of loving and letting go….

Susannah
1986

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