On Motherhood and the Journey of Letting Go
The Saturday before Thanksgiving was spent decorating our home for Christmas.
As usual, the kids were excited watching Cory haul the tree up from storage in the basement, but something felt different this year. I couldn’t quite put my finger on what was feeling “off” until I realized it was a simple game of math: The kids were a whole year older than the last time we decorated. And that one year of growing up and maturing showed.
This year at Christmas, Makenna will be 11, Colton 9, and Brooks only a few days shy of turning 7.
These are wonderful ages in their own right. No diapers or diaper bags! No baby items! And also, no phones yet! They know where and how to get their own snacks and dress themselves for school. By all accounts, we have hit, as author Ashlee Gadd says, the “sweet spot.”
It sounds lovely (and often is!), but I will also say it’s sad in many ways, too.
While I put up the tree this year and Cory ventured to the local hardware store for more Christmas lights (IYKYK), the kiddos were off playing flashlight tag and other games they’ve made up in our basement. When it came time to place the ornaments, they rambunctiously made their way up the stairs, threw on what they wanted to, and then went back to the basement to keep playing.
The moment went by so quickly I didn’t even snap a single photo. (Cue: Mom guilt.)
In earlier years while attempting to decorate the tree, I would have been interrupted at least a dozen times by snack requests, a crying kiddo, or a potty-training accident. But I also would have had the kids right next to me, “helping” me decorate every last thing while they pranced around in a Santa hat and signature child-like Christmas spirit.
This year, there was simply less interest. Still interest, of course, but less. It was strangely quiet while I did most of the decorating.
I hate to admit it, but thoughts of “Slow down! This is going way too fast!” played on repeat in my mind for the rest of the day.
Maybe this is just motherhood – the constant push and pull of hanging on and letting go.
The feelings I had after decorating for Christmas were similar to my experience as this past summer drew to a close. In August, I remember thinking, did we do enough this summer?
Did we take enough pictures and make enough memories to hang on to when the kids are older and we’re no longer in these phases of life?
Am I pushing them away too fast? Am I trying to attain a lifestyle where my kids don’t need me by encouraging independence when instead, I should be holding on to these “lasts” for dear life?
Is the work I’m doing building a legacy? Or am I simply doing my best to get through the day-to-day?
I’m confident I’ve had similar thoughts during other phases of life, too. The constant, “Is this enough?” and the fear of losing them too fast hits at different times and in different ways. But I think this is just the story of motherhood.
Some days, we need to give our kiddos a gentle push. We become the guardrails while they learn new things and discover their own independence.
On other days, we pull back. We pause, we savor, and we soak up every moment they want to spend with us without rushing them on to the next thing.
It’s a dance – a tug of war, this motherhood thing.
And often, scarcity thinking weighs on my mind.
When the kiddos were younger, they used to be scared of the basement.
No one went downstairs without a parent. We were the safety net, the guard against any fictional monsters or ghosts that might be hiding in the dark waiting to pounce.
These days, our three opt on their own to venture downstairs. No parent guardian needed. No safety net wanted.
I know this is a good thing. A rite of passage. A way for them to get closer to each other. But at the same time, I feel like I’m missing precious time with them. My mind easily slips into fear that as they get older, our time together will only run out.
This is, of course, not true. When I pause to examine this mindset (and avoid any reels reminding me that I “only have 18 summers!” with each kiddo), I find myself lucky to even have that much time at all. And, hopeful that our relationship will stay strong even after they’re out of the house.
My job is to simply stay present with the time I’m given.
Isn’t this always the point? The end game?
The same philosophy is true with all loved ones. I like to think I know what will happen next. However, this thinking often has me falsely believing that time is an unlimited resource.
At the end of the day, I still have a choice: I can either focus my energy on the scarcity of what’s left, or I can focus my energy on being extremely present right now.
To be where my feet are. To pause my multi-tasking and spend more time soaking in these 3 littles, studying the shape of their faces, the jokes they find funny, and even the interruptions that years later, I know won’t feel like interruptions at all.
Motherhood is tricky, but I think this is how we ground ourselves.
We pause, we drink it all in, and we create memories where we can. When we have an “off” day, we lay our head on the pillow at night reminding ourselves that, God-willing, we’ll get a fresh start tomorrow.
Wrapping Up.
Maybe seeing my kiddos get older just has its own moments of sadness that will hit at different times and in different ways.
I’m confident I’ll still find myself instances of desperately begging time to slow down. What mother hasn’t? But for now, I think I’ll pause. This weekend, we’ll bake a few cookies together. I’ll likely be rattled by the mess of my kitchen and the constant questions, but I’ll also try a little harder to just sit in those moments. To be there – wholeheartedly – knowing I’m exactly where I’m meant to be.
