Growing Up

Last night, due to a faulty smoke alarm, the family was rudely awoken by a shrill beeping noise.  It took approximately .2 seconds for my youngest child, Julian, to sprint into our bedroom and into my arms with tears running down his face.  It took me a bit to calm him, and he decided he wanted to spend the night cuddled up next to me.  It's been a few months since Julian has slept in our bed, he has given it up and now prefers to sleep on the floor of his older brother's room. Julian does have his own bed mind you, but for nearly a year he would wander into our bedroom  in the middle of the night, sleepy-eyed and crawl into my side of the bed. I admit, not only did I not mind it, I liked it.

I remember writing a post about my eldest child, Zack, years ago, when he was small.  I took him to a water park for little kids, and got briefly separated from him.  I saw Zack looking for me, but I could not grab his attention.  He had a look of sheer panic on his little face as I tried to make my way over to him, through a sea of small, splashing children. When I finally got to him he fell into my arms, sobbing with relief, and I thought to myself "I mean everything to this child."

As babies and toddlers, I was everything my children needed.  I still recall picking Zack up from daycare, and seeing his face light up as soon as he spotted me, or the way Evan's arms would reach for me when I came to fetch him from his crib in the morning.   It was an amazing feeling to know that, barring any medical crisis, I could provide for every one of my children's needs. I gave them the attention, the love, the food, the learning and the entertainment they required, their entire lives revolved around me. 

Of course they grow bigger don't they?  Zack is now only one foot shy of matching me in height, and I can wear his shoes. His shoulders are getting broader, and I can see the outlines of his teenage self starting to develop, with only occasional shadows of the little boy he was. Evan, almost 9, was once a little chunk, with a head of floppy blond curls, which would have me stopping to gratefully accept compliments with some frequency.  Today he is skinny and goofy and rather then the angelic look he took on as a baby, he now seems to always have a twinkle of mischief in his blue eyes.   Julian, of course is my "baby" though he will be turning six not too long from now. He is shedding his baby fat, but still has the voice of a very small child, though I know that too will fade away soon.

The boys now have entire lives that exists outside of me. They have teachers, friends and coaches who play a big part in their growing up.  I no longer know exactly what they ate each day, or have a daily report card informing me how many times they used the bathroom and how long they napped. (Okay, so even then I that was a little TMI.)  But now, I can no longer meet all of their needs.  I can't teach Zack how to pitch, and don't get me started on algebra.  I can't fix the hurt if they do poorly on a test, or lose a friend who moves away.  I can't be their whole lives anymore, they are becoming their own people.

Helping our children grow up and eventually "leave the nest" is part of our job as parents.  We are successful when our kids can think for themselves, form positive, loving relationships, and frankly, allow themselves to "need" others.   I can't be my child's everything anymore, and though at times I miss that, I know that one the greatest gifts I can give my boys is love and support so that they may have the confidence to "grow-up" and away from me.

And so last night when my littlest came to me knowing I could fix everything for him in an instant, I took that moment and held it in my heart, knowing that soon, a time would come when I couldn't. And I hope (God do I hope) that even though it won't be the way it once was, that part of them will still "need" their mom, as I know I will always need them.