#Slice2013 - Day 14 of 31

I would like to say that I'm enjoying watching my kids grow up. But honestly, I can't pin down a word that wholly describes what it feels like to watch a child cross over from dependent to independent.

I mean, okay fine, I am proud of them. I love seeing them become more responsible. I love sharing in the joys of things like first jobs, first cars, graduating high school, first week of college. Those are good moments.

I enjoy the humor we share. I love trading music and funny videos, and love even more the quiet sharing in more serious moments. It even makes me a little giddy that these once-small boys both are as big or bigger than me. I am glad we are close enough that they come to me with big decisions. I'm happy to see them both trying to figure out the balance between school and work, between spending all their money on just "stuff" and saving for the future.

There is a certain something gratifying in watching a child come into his own.

But Uno is rounding the corner from uncertain adolescent to fully independent adult. And in that, I feel I am losing him a little. It's not a bad thing, exactly, it's the normal course of events. He's making his way, opening new doors, branching out. He has friends now that I've never met. Goes places I don't know about. Has new interests not shared with me.

He's doing exactly what he's supposed to do. He's figuring things out on his own.

But there's a quiet around the house now that I just don't know what to do with. It's reminiscent of when my sister got married. She had lived with me for so long that we had more of a mother/daughter relationship than a sisterly one. When she moved out, and when I saw her walk back down the aisle and out of the small lakeside chapel, hand in hand with the love of her life, I bawled like a baby.

I was so tenderly and powerfully happy for her. And a little brokenhearted at the same time.

She didn't really need me anymore, not like she had before.

I feel that way with Uno now.

My heart bursts simultaneously with joy and sorrow, anticipation of his future and worry for his safety.

He was so tiny when he was born; so fragile. And it feels a little like I have just released this tiny, fragile being out into the world and I want to yell, "Hey! World! Be kind! He's new to you, but I've had him all these long years, and I won't survive if you ruin him."


  1. My oldest left the nest last June. And moved 900 miles away to play football at a junior college. Has had more than a few bumps, but is basically making his own way and doing ok. And I hate not having him around. And miss him every single day. And I know that he is doing exactly what he is supposed to be doing. Wish someone would have told me how hard this mother hoodthing is.

  2. I know, but would we have believed them? Is it even possible to understand the depth of these emotions? But seriously, someone should set us all up with a mom support group before these moments hit! :) Thanks for your comment. It's like a long distance mom to mom hug, and I needed that tonight!