What happens now?

I have a friend who wrote a blog titled, "What happens when they don't need you as much?" It struck a chord then and now. My "babies" are 20 and 17. And being their Mom is still my primary job. It is my reason for breathing. Another friend said, "my job from the moment you were born is to get you ready to leave me." That is also true. My head knows that but my heart is not listening.

I have not been a perfect parent. I have not been a perfect wife. I have not been a perfect daughter, sister, friend, human being. It has taken me, oh...40 years to realize that God didn't expect me to be, in fact, sent Jesus because He knew I wouldn't be. I have tried and that's what I hope my kids have seen. They don't know that they are the reason I went back to school. It had very little to do with me and a great deal to do with them. Yes, I've always wanted to teach. More importantly I wanted them to know that anything is possible. So, when it was time for me to face Algebra, I did it. It wasn't fun, but I did it. As I thought about what my password should be throughout school, I knew it had to be something to do with them. That way, each time I typed it I remembered why I was doing what I was doing.

My daughter's song at her dedication was "The Cradle Song" by Sandi (then) Patti. A verse in it says, "though we might fail you often the Lord will still be there." As I stood at that altar with my husband, I never imagined all the things life would bring. That beautiful, beautiful little baby has been everything we wanted and so much more than we deserve. She is an "A" student (at UF!), contributing reporter for The Alligator, wears a seat belt when she drives and loves GOD. She is so ready to be on her own. I am not.

For our son, his song was "Another Child to Hold." As I've written in other places in my blog, he is a child with a heart of gold. He loves deeply and cares passionately. He knows GOD will help with whatever. He is as intelligent and gifted as his sister but has a completely different approach to school. He is a dual enrollment student and does fine. I don't think I've ever seen the child study...ever. I could tell you each time that I've proofread a paper for him, um...never. And I'm an English teacher. I worry how he will do in college. He wants to be a teacher. Or an entrepreneur living on Daytona Beach. I'm trying to stay quiet.

When the kids were very small, my husband and I worked for my brother's ministry. He travelled a lot and I was home with the kids. My daughter was, and still is, a Daddy's girl. That has always been cool with me since I was that too. I know how much I loved my Daddy and how I enjoyed the times we shared. Prior to his working at the ministry, he was a McD's manager. He took her to manager's meetings with him. The first sentence I remember her saying was, "go Mc don don's, I want fre fries." My son, born on the fourth of July, was our firecracker baby. He cried from the moment he hit the air. His dad left for a crusade on the Saturday after he was born. So, my son and I have always been close. He is a lot like me. For better or worse. Anyway, we made it through those four years as a "single" mom with two kids.

All the life experiences we have make us the people we are. I've always said there were two things I wouldn't fight over while raising my kids, hair and clothes. When I tell people that they are usually shocked. I have to explain that I didn't mean I would let them out of the house in anything inappropriate. I just meant I didn't care if they wanted to wear the same dress every day or sweatpants with cowboy boots, I was cool with that. As for hair...it will grow back. I didn't let my daughter have long hair and she still holds that against me. In all honesty, her hair was (and is) so thick and beautiful that she could wear it in a Mohawk and I would still love it. I just wasn't a brushoutyourhairlistentoyoucryputitinaponytail kind of mom. As you see in pictures elsewhere in the blog, my son's hair was a mass of Puerto Rican poofiness. Clothes and hair were (and are) battles I chose not to fight. They seem to have made it out to the other side relatively unscathed and fairly well groomed.

The battles I have fought are the ones their Dad and I believe matter. We didn't let them celebrate Halloween. We didn't let them watch cartoons that we thought were ugly. Power Rangers...I will NEVER hear the end of that one. It was a struggle to let him have Pokemon; her an N*Sync CD. We didn't let them see movies that we would be ashamed to tell their grandparents about. They didn't date or drive until they were ready. They had/have curfews. They had bedtimes. They told people thank you for gifts whether they liked them or not...it really IS the thought that counts. They were required to be kind and helpful to adults. They were not allowed to make fun of people who are disabled or different from them. They were ... spanked. They were raised to believe in GOD and that Jesus is his son and faith in him is the only way to the Father. They were always told as much as we love them, GOD loves them more.

The seeds we sowed are bearing fruit. They both know that GOD can answer any question, solve any problem, listens ALL the time and loves them. I know these things in my heart AND my head.

But, it doesn't make letting them go any easier. I am used to being the one they talk to about problems. That's changing. I am used to being the one who could kiss the boo-boos and make them go away. They're learning to find the Band aids on their own. I'm used to being the boss. That's changing too. Maybe that is the hardest part of all.

I cringe when they don't answer their phones right away. My heart races when I hear a siren and don't know if they're off the road yet. I would throw people off a cliff to protect them. I will lose every bit of sanity I have left if I believe someone has hurt them. I have caught vomit in my hands. I have held a congested baby in a steam filled bathroom. I have rocked and cried right along with them when they were teething and there was nothing I could do. I know I am not the only parent who has done those things. But I know that these things are what I should do...that's what being a parent means.

Having done those things is what makes letting them go harder. No one will ever love them like I do. No one will ever bear their imperfections and shortcomings as I will. No one will ever think they're perfect and amazing and astonishing human beings as I do. But that will change too...they will meet the person GOD has for them and they will tell me how wonderful, amazing, and spectacular they are. I hope I will smile. I hope I can accept not being needed quite so much. I hope I can remember that the reason they are ABLE to do that is because I've done my job. I hope I will be there to see it all. They will always be my reason for breathing. I hope I will be able to stop holding my breath.