It's been 6 months since I've been here last. Time means nothing nowadays. Someone asked me about this blog and it gave me pause. I never liked a cliffhanger and so here I am wrapping it up.
When I started this blog in April 2012, it was to be an outlet for me to vent about the impossibilities of motherhood and to track (in real-time) the things that my children were doing, saying, and thinking. It was my way of capturing their childhood in a perspective that photographs just couldn't.
I would tell funny stories and recount our days together. But the truth is, those days are behind me. I haven't written because there is nothing to write about. "Today, I worked 10 hours, and the children popped in for a moment before they went off with their friends." There is no fun in that.
The things I long to say, the stories I'd like to tell - I can't. They are their own people now and deserving of their privacy.
My oldest daughter is 17. She will be graduating from high school in 9 months. This was supposed to be a joyful time but the darkness of the pandemic and the things that have happened have permeated everything. It's like a phantom that haunts my house. Invisible but always present.
My 15-year-old is blossoming into a young woman. She has big dreams and wants to travel the world. I couldn't have asked for a sweeter child.
My identity used to be as a mother. My days were centered around the children and I truly tried my best to always be there for them. I enjoyed watching them grow up. I was present. It was a beautiful time in my life.
I am still a mother and will always be, but they need me differently now. It is not my sole identity now. I am not a mother of young children. I am the mother of teenagers on the verge of adulthood. I am finally myself again.
For years I fantasized about having my time back, about being able to do what I want to do. Here it is. I have all the time in the world. I clean my house and it stays clean. I do what I want to do and not worry about what the children need every minute of every day.
I've been able to pursue my own ambitions. I started my own business and it's gone incredibly well. I am so very blessed. I work 10 hours a day, 6 days a week. I don't mind it at all. I enjoy what I'm doing. It helps take my mind off of the horrors of the past 18 months.
I have grief like you could not imagine. One would think, that me of all people, would handle the losses just fine. After all, I've spent my entire life grieving the things that would never be.... But the pandemic and the things that have ensued have stung so bad and been so difficult that I'm not sure I will ever get to the other side of my grief. Over time, I hope that I can accept it. I'm working on it.
That being said, I am excited for the future. It is bright. I am young, only 37 and I feel like doors are opening up all around me. My husband and I are making big plans and are happy that the chaos of raising up young children is behind us. It is how it should be.
My views on motherhood have changed through the years. There were times when I felt it was nothing but joy and times where it has been impossible. I never felt like I was terribly good at it but I gave it a college try. Right now, I think that motherhood is cruel. I've heard it described as the longest breakup ever. How true that is.
You grow a human being inside of you, nurture them, love them, snuggle them, read to them, teach them to do everything, cook thousands of meals, make sure they have everything they need, watch them struggle, and give advice.....they are the center of your universe. Then you watch them start to walk away from you as they start to forge lives of their own. It is how it should be, but it doesn't make it any less difficult or lessen the sting.
I don't know what the future holds, but I am excited to see the girls grow into adults. I am ready for my next chapter as I rediscover who I am and make up for the past 17 years of lack-of-alone-time with my husband. And in the end, I realized maybe I am too hard on myself and I don't deserve the bad mom award after all.
