My Mother’s Day started with this message on my phone from my oldest kid:
Which makes me think I raised him right.
My kids both have birthdays this week. They will be 24 and 21, even though there’s a part of me that refuses to accept the information, a part of my identity that is permanently stuck at being the mom of a 4-year-old and 7-year-old. I’m not sure why that particular point in time. It’s just the feeling of who I am.
There’s a lot to be said for being the mom of adults, though. I never have to nag anyone to shower. I never have to do another parent-teacher conference. If I want to go on a bike ride by myself, I can just go.
I think that’s why parents and children can become friends as life goes on. Because the parents no longer have to be guardians and gatekeepers. Well, there’s still a little of that going on with the younger one. But for the most part, I’ve done what I can do to guide my children to adulthood, for better or worse. It’s up to them now to remember to shower. Meanwhile I get to reap the rewards of gaining a couple of new friends.