I’ve been a mother now for more years than I’ve not been a mother. While I don’t consider myself old yet (and still feel about 25 on the inside), I know that the time in which my kids will need my hands-on mothering is quickly drawing to a close. Back when I was 20 and my oldest daughter was a newborn, I was a bright-eyed rookie marveling at this new role of mother. I recall saying “my daughter” and having it sound so fantastically novel. Ten years later, hearing myself utter the words “my son” also sounded peculiar to me after 10 years of mothering two girls, but I was still so eager to learn all I could, firmly implanted in the batter’s box.
This month, that baby boy will graduate from middle school and head off to high school, and I am feeling for the first time in 23 years that my mothering is taking a backseat to my life. Even writing that feels bizarre, honestly.
For 23 years, I proudly wore the uniform with capital MOM on the back.