As a parent, life seems to be a fluctuation between survival mode and an attempt to capture the moments we never want to forget.
My three children of 8, 10, and 12 are on the edge of pulling away. We are teetering between the call of a social life and the security of weekends at home, and I am unsure of how to progress.
Freedom is so close I can almost taste it. The day to day pressures of three small lives is lifting as they grow. With the lifting of pressure becomes space. Oh how I have wanted space and room to breath, and now…
Now I want to hold just a little tighter for just a moment longer the children I see in front of me on their way to youth and beyond.
My baby moves with a bounce, a skip, and twirl. She is wild, savage fire and passion. She pushes and pushes and drives me crazy while making my heart burst with love.
My middle child, the dreamer, dancer, and entrepreneur, keeps me on my toes and on the move. With her nose in a book and her legs forming pirouettes as she moves about the house, she fills my ears with a stream of ideas of her next business, project, or club. I hear more work for me…. and a girl on her way somewhere before her time.
My almost man is sweetness and athleticism. He is quiet confidence in long strides. He is so easy I fear I fail him. He does not demand my attention or affection. He is steady and dependable, and I often forget to be soft and available as he races away from boyhood.
Tonight I capture a sentimental thought….
Tomorrow, I wash dishes, fold laundry, and dream of freedom.