I really love being a parent. I especially love the way parenting is full of heart surprises despite being the oldest endeavour known to humankind.
One of my biggest surprises has been how being a mother is not just fun when children are small and cuddly and exploding with cuteness, but also when they are gawky teenagers, with wonky, vulnerable smiles and burgeoning senses of humour.
When you have babies, you look at parents of teenagers and think “Oh, that must suck – imagine having kids all large and adulty?” So that’s what you’re expecting to feel…right until the teenagers in question are your own.
Any parent of teenagers will understand this feeling. One minute you are rocking a baby and the next you are buying shaving cream and living in your Mom-mobile, ferrying these quasi-adults from social event to complicated afternoon activity that you could not attempt yourself.
My sons, now 16 and 14, have grown to be among my favourite companions.
Which is such a luck because I spend so much time with them. Hurrah! Until I remembered that, if life is going to continue at the same pace…they are moving out within minutes. Disaster.
“I’ve been thinking about it, and I am not sure you can move out after school,” I said to my sons over dinner a few months back. “It is not going to suit me. I have become accustomed to you being here all the time.”
Both sons smiled supportively. (This was not there first Needy Mom rodeo.)
“You act like you are about to stop being a traditional, stereotype mom, and your whole life is going to stop when we leave,” said Son1. “But you seem to have forgotten that you haven’t been a ‘traditional mom’ for a long time.”
“Forever, if you factor in how much you swear, added Son2 helpfully.
“You still have the fun bits down,”continues Son1, not to be deterred from his train of thought by Son2’s light Mom mockery, “but over the last while, we’ve been organising a lot of our own lifts and stuff. And you’ve been working harder and going out more in the evenings. We’re already not at home that much. You’re clinging to something which is already changing.”
“And I am seriously considering failing to launch,” chirped in Son2.
I thought about it long and hard, and by gum, Son1 (and maybe Son2?) was right. Here I was, holding tight onto baking apron and mommy car, with hardly a cookie tray or lift blizzard in sight. This parenting change from teenager to adult is a gradual one, just like the baby to teenage process. Steeling myself in terror for the definitive Empty Nest Disaster is a stupid approach.
Also, and much more importantly, I realised that as my boys get older and more responsible, I can get older and LESS responsible. Hurrah!
So last month, my sons arrived home from school to find my sturdy mom sedan replaced by a tiny 2-door cabriolet.
“Can we all even fit in that car?” Son2 asked in surprise.
“Not unless you fold yourselves into interesting shapes,” I replied happily. “Dad still has his sensible car, and I’ve always wanted little bug with a retractable roof. Exactly like this. Wanna sit in it with me while I zip the roof up and down? It can keep me amused for hours!”
My sons looked at each other and then smiled back at me indulgently. “How about we take turns to drive with you when you feel like company? We can spread out the excitement of your frivolous purchase. Also…bags using that little car for my driver’s test.”
You know what? This, like the rest of my parenting journey, is going to fun.
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