………It’s that time of year again. It may be allergy season, but all those teary eyes can’t be attributed to Mother Nature. Nope, graduation season brings about a strange malady of teary eyes in mothers. Fathers don’t seem to be afflicted and therein lies my argument that since nature would have us carry our babies and give birth to them, we as a gender have been mad ever since they cut the umbilical cord.
…..I don’t know about other mothers, but it was a whole lot easier to keep track of my kids when they were in utero. But, once they were born, the chase began. Me, determined to keep them safe and happy and always, always within my reach. First, they crawled, then they toddled and once they learned to walk, they ran just beyond my reach. They each exerted their need to be independent. Dr. Spock didn’t have a chapter on “child flees mother, eager to confront the danger the world has in store.” My sister, Marsha, she who had five children in seven years, had something better….experience. I remember I was afraid for Doug to ride his first two wheeler bike. We were at the Websters at the top of the little hill near the house and he climbed on one of the twin’s two wheelers. They agreed it was time. Marsha agreed it was time. I knew it wasn’t time. I anticipated him getting his driver’s license before he tried this. Doug had his hands on the handle bar, so did Marsha and so did I. She said to Doug “Are you ready?” and he shook his head. And, with that my sister ripped my hands from the handlebar and sent Doug flying down the hill while five cousins clapped.
……..Shannon was another matter, but one Marsha was equipped to handle. She had a problem eating as a baby because her pylorus would contract when the formula started down her throat causing her to projectile vomit. While we got it straightened, crying would still activate it and she would throw up. Needless to say, I thought this little girl’s life was totally dependent on me and I wouldn’t leave her with a family member, a baby sitter, even her father. Until Marsha had had enough. She envisioned me boarding the school bus to kindergarten with Shannon. I was told we were leaving her with Marsha. We brought her there; sat her in her high chair and as I departed I heard her cry, then stop, and I heard someone else cry. It was Marsha. Every time Shannon would cry, Marsha would cry and it stopped Shannon dead in her tracks as she looked wide eyed at this crazy lady her irresponsible mom had left her with.
…….I think the first time I recognized that having children is just a series of “letting go” moments was Doug’s first day of school. I was walking him to the bus stop when I reached out to hold his hand. It wasn’t there. It was tucked firmly in his jean’s pocket. Soon it became apparent our cadence didn’t match. His too fast, eager to experience all the new adventures. Mine, too slow, reluctant to let him go to face the unknown. I knew then it was time to let him walk alone. (If you’re wondering about Shannon’s first day, I drove her to kindergarten and when I went to get her out the car she grabbed the steering wheel and wouldn’t let go. Dr. Spock would have been aghast. I didn’t talk to her in soothing tones. No sir, I just grabbed her legs and pulled. I had matured as a mother.)
……..And then, after 12 years it seems like the first day of school all over. I would bet you in every mother’s mind the movie of those days is playing on slow speed. But once again, it’s time to let the kids go. You’ve walked with them every step of the way. You’ve cheered their victories and kissed away the tears of their defeat. Now, it’s time to let them fly!
…….Congratulations to the graduates and their families!
