Bittersweet

 Watching my children grow up is so bittersweet. Makenzie is going away for a basketball tournament with her high school team and I am not happy about it. I worry about the potential for a car accident while traveling. I worry about drug paraphernalia being brought on the trip by another child and my child feeling pressured to do something that isn't safe. I worry about her being able to get any quality sleep. I worry about the possibility of embarrassing situations that cause her to feel shame.  I realize how finite these years of having her in our home are. 

Sometimes it feels like she's my best friend. Other times I'm reminded that she is only a child and that she can not and should not be my best friend. There is no one that I enjoy talking to or spending time with more than her. I don't believe she is my accomplishment. I believe that she is a gift that has been given to me by God. She is the absolute best gift. I feel the same way about my son. He is also an absolute gift from God. 

It feels like I'm the only one who really sees my son. I believe that I can see into his soul and his emotions are not hidden from me. I am his soft and safe place to land. He often will reveal feelings and thoughts to me that no one else in our family sees. He has a fragile soul. We all do. 

I'm lonely in this "in-between" time of mother hood. Gone are the days of playdates at the park. Now I'm a taxi drive and I'm not invited to play. I'm on the periphery of my children's lives and I'm the center. I have a sense that all things begin and end with me. My actions are very determinant to everyone else's experience: when I wake up, what food I buy/prepare, the mood I'm in, my level of patience, my willingness to participate, my emotional and mental capacity to be present. It's hard to be everything and nothing all at the same time.