More of the same.

As a mother, particularly one of the stay at home variety, people ask me a lot what I want to do when the kids are grown.  I tend to hem and haw at this question.  Oh, sure I make a few tentative plans in my head.  I think about how I’d like to teach preschool or find a position at an elementary school that would keep me close to my kids.  I think about how I want to write.  Heck, I even try to imagine social activities that I might enjoy.  Nope, still no great ideas.  My life is so tied to theirs; it’s just next to impossible. 

Until today. 

Today, I saw something that I want more than I can express to you in words.

My friend posted a blog post about what their family had done over Easter.  It was a lovely post.  She always does such a good job of sharing the things that her sweet family does together, and this post was no different.  But, as I scrolled down, something caught my eye and took my breath. 

There she had posted a picture of her mother and father sitting down on some brick steps with all of their grandchildren surrounding them.  Her mother had her hand on her dad’s leg and they just looked so happy, so blessed-all of their grandchildren sitting at their feet-a legacy that a lifetime of love and commitment had granted them. 

That, my friends-that is what I want.  I want it so badly that I have tears in my eyes.  I want to see the happily ever after. I want to see my kids become parents. I want to know their children. I want to hold their babies and see the features that I saw in them so many years before.  I want to bandage their skinned knees and watch their school plays.  I want to give them cookies before dinner and chocolate cake after dessert.  I want to be part of their journey.  

And deep down, I know why I want it so badly.  I want it because I know it’s not promised.  I know it’s what my own mother wanted and was denied.  Life is a gift.  In fact, birthdays are a present all unto themselves.  We are not promised tomorrow.  But, when you ask me what I want, I want time.  I want age.  I want tomorrow and the next day and the next.  I want to sit on some brick stairs with my husband and see what the future has brought us.  I want more of the same, please,  More of the same.  

Jumping in and jumping out.

This week the kids have been on Spring break and I’ve literally been trying to cram as much fun and happy childhood memories into every waking moment.  Mama is tired.  But, alas we soldiered on. 

Today we were bouncing at our favorite local trampoline park.  Now, I’ve caught some flack from the youngest member of our crew for not paying to jump with everyone.  So, today, (since I needed the exercise anyway) I caved.  I thought she would be thrilled, especially since the boys each had a buddy with them.  I just knew that she and I would have a magical time filled with unicorns, rainbows and Hallmark cards.  I was pretty sure Amy Grant music would be playing on the giant stereo system. We would have a moment.  We were making memories, dang it.

Until she kicked me out.

Yep, girlfriend took a few loops around the biggest trampoline area and told me I could go have a seat.  I was a little confused.  You don’t want me to jump with you, baby?  “No, I’m fine”. 

She’s fine.

An older lady who was standing by the edge of the entrance saw this scene play out and as I was walking by, she said, “Oh, honey.  If she’s kicking you out now, at her age, she’s gonna break your heart when she’s older”.

I had some time to sit on that.  (Because duh, she didn’t need me).  And at first, I wallowed.  My baby is three.  THREE.  And she is already telling me to go kick rocks.  Is this a mere glimpse of the life we have ahead.  After all, haven’t I raised her to need me?

That’s when the record scratched.  No.  I have not raised her to need me.  I have raised her to need HERSELF; to be her own person. And if raising an independent woman who knows how to speak up for herself and be her own voice is wrong, heck, I don’t wanna be right. 

So, sister on, little sister.  I’ll be here with a juice box when you’re done.