Round Two

Well, I did it.  Sort of.  I survived round two of this whole sending-my-child-off-to-college thing.  I feel a bit shell-shocked at this point.  It doesn't actually seem possible that this is actually my life.  You see, I didn't mean to, but somewhere along the way, I began to take my identity as "mom" to my kids.  I saw myself as the person who took care of these little people who needed me.  When they were small, that meant feeding them, bathing them, reading to them, loving them.  As they got older, it meant feeding them (always feeding them), reminding them to shower, reminding them to read, driving them (DRIVING THEM) everywhere, and as always loving them.  But the thing that is significant to me is that no matter how busy they were, no matter how crazy my life was as I played taxi driver, chef, laundress, errand-runner, and more, they were always there.  Even if they weren't here, they were THERE.  I always knew where they were, always knew who they were with, always knew that at the end of the day, I could peek in their rooms and listen to their breaths as they slept, knowing they were safe and, as always, loving them.  But college changes that.  Now, I still feed her, but it is different...now I send care packages with her favorite tea, her favorite dried fruit, her favorite granola bars.  I still remind her to take care of herself, to do her homework, to be careful, but I do it over the phone or by text.  I would give anything to go back to driving her everywhere, but I can't.  Now, she has to take planes, buses, trains, and cabs to get to school.  I still love her fiercely, but I have to do it from a distance, and it is different.  It is certainly less trauma-inducing the second time around (I haven't found myself in full-on sob mode yet anyway), but the "different" is sad to me.  I have always been Megan's mom, Kate's mom, Jake's mom, Nick's mom, Emma's mom, and I certainly always will be, but the reality of what that means in my life is changing every day...I can feel it.  The universe is tipping in our house...just the simple fact that it was easier to send Megan off to school is one sign.  Sending two to high school this year is another.  Attending our LAST elementary school open house last week is another.  Finding our house quiet more and more often as all the kids are off at soccer practice, work, football practice, friends' houses...it's unsettling.  I want nothing more than for my children to be healthy, happy, strong, independent, and I pray every day that God will guide them and lead them and protect them.  I know He will, I know I've done what I can and will keep doing what I can for as long as the universe doesn't fall off its axis, but the tipping...it's hard.  I will probably never know myself more fully than I have as a mom, and I will never stop being their mom, but what that means every day in my life, and in theirs, is changing, and I would give anything to go back to the me that I knew 19 years ago when I held my tiny 5 pound baby girl in my arms...I'd tell that mom to hang on and to never forget that the universe will tip someday. To hang on to every breath, every second, to drink it all in and savor it.  To love that baby girl, to love the others that would come later, and to know that being their mom is an honor, a privilege, a gift...to know that the hard work and crazy busy will be so worth it, but it won't last...someday the workload will lighten and she will long to have it back.  I would tell her to love those kids fiercely every single day and to memorize the moments, and I would tell her that she will be blessed beyond measure for all the days of her life, simply because God chose her to be their mom.  I know these things now, but I didn't know them then, and so as the universe tips, I find new footing, I take deep breaths, and I drink it all in because this time, too, will slip away as I go through round three, round four, and more.  Life is good, but it is different, and I am learning to let go of the old and embrace the new...and to hang on.