Monday, April 04, 2016

Shine Brighter

Not far from home, up the coast a bit, we went to see about a school for Max; he has a decision to make, from some really good choices. (That's my "humble brag" for a young man who has worked diligently, exceptionally, and deserves tremendous recognition for his efforts.) We decided to make an occasion of our visit, and spent the night before in a hotel. Maria swam in a nice pool, we walked all over Balboa Island, had dinner out, explored neighborhoods, and points of interest... like a game and comic store. While Max and I went to an official reception, and Q & A seminars, Geoff and Maria walk around campus, touring. For the record: Maria likes both UCSD and UCI. She would like to be at 'a quiet school where she can study programming and art.' I love her foresight and calm reflection. Max, too, has been calmly reflecting, as he weighs his options, with foresight and reason; I trust he will make a good choice.

{In another, anonymous, perhaps private blog... I'd confess my own insecurities and self-doubts, because while I am keenly aware that this phase, this transition, is about Max, his future, his life, I cannot help but feel twinges, growing pangs, of my own. And I wonder: Why don't we have showers, ceremonies, for parents who have made it through colic, first steps, all the unexpected paths and detours, dirty socks, love, traditions, bonding, adolescence, college apps? Parents should gather around a campfire, or beneath the full moon, or both. We should howl and cry and laugh, and praise each other for what has been achieved, and to ponder what lies ahead. Tips, referrals, hugs, and commiseration would be much appreciated. I wouldn't ask my child to be there... to see me teary and immodestly recanting all the hurdles, late nights, successes, fears, doubts, joys, the moments I am loath to see slip away. I love being a mother, I love the children we have, who they are, and who they are becoming, and nothing about this "phase" has me hastening an end, a finish line. So... maybe I am going to need a nudge, a gentle, compassionate way to move into the changes we are facing, to let go a little more. Yes, all of this could be safely shared on a private blog, where my sentimental, proud, a bit anxious and over-thinking musings could be discreetly pondered, contemplated. Otherwise, it's all bit too much.}

Every bit of parenting has been a joy for me... yes, even the hard bits, because they put me in awe of what is possible, of the power of love to carry us forward. In each of our children's lives I have been witness to stories unfolding, developing, and each new chapter has me enthralled. No two stories the same, but each compelling and dear to me. I am honored to be connected to these people, to know them, to love them, and be loved by them. It does go quickly... if you have toddlers, or a baby, I am sure plenty of people have warned you. Well, it's true. Suddenly, all of my hopes and time, and theories are applied, tested, and I have an individual standing before me, and it's time to release him, to step back and see him shine brighter, on his own... maybe a bit more on his own. {I am the one taking baby steps, now~}


Anonymous said...

He'll be absolutely fine - don't worry (though I know you will), like every other mother. Let them go and leave the door open - they'll be back before you know it, on vacation, between halls/flat shares/house shares/with or without boyfriends/girlfriends/for celebrations and when you least expect it! I love it that 'home' is still their home even though they live away - and for one of mine at least, thousands of miles away. Yes, of course, I shed a few tears when they go off at a station, airport, to catch the bus or just walk to somewhere else that they live - but we've raised them to be strong and independent - they're doing what they're meant to. You have talented children and a wonderful family, don't fret, change is just what happens in life! Ax

Tracy Batchelder said...

The initial letting go is the toughest, but the knowledge that you have prepared them well for the future brings peace.

Natalie, the Chickenblogger said...

Thank you.
Thank you, a lot.

Natalie, the Chickenblogger said...

I still remember the sheer panic when Alex was five-ten-twenty minutes late coming home from his commuter school... then I would recall: "Oops! It's his late class. He's right on time!" That first semester was a lesson for me!

Natalie, the Chickenblogger said...

And thank you, too, Tracy. It really does help to hear from moms who know.