I was lying in the grass while Juliet played on the playground with her friend. I began thinking about how it wasn’t that long ago that I had to watch her to make sure she was safe. To be ready to catch the fall, to help her up the ladder, to direct her back from danger. Sometimes I was resentful. Being tired as a mother to a young child, I wanted a break from the vigilance, the constant play, the endless responsibility. I’d see other moms reading or chatting on their phones, really grabbing a moment to themselves. I longed for it and when I was inevitably needed, I sighed inwardly. Can’t I just sit here and close my eyes?
So while I was lying under the blazing blue sky, alone, resting, having a minute for myself, I noticed something. The older kids in our group (ages 10-11) were all over the equipment. Riding the spring dolphin so hard it bent to the ground, jumping off the top of the slide and generally getting in the way of the littler kids. I thought back a few years to how I had cursed that behavior because it endangered my toddlers. Oh! I suddenly realized where I was. I was suddenly that mom! The one that doesn’t need to be “on” all the time. All around me were parents watching and tending to their little kids. Mine were big and capable and didn’t need me anymore.
Time had carried me to the other side and I hadn’t even felt it.
I closed my eyes and thought about that for a while. How wonderful it was to be relieved of that intense responsibility. It felt so good to relax, truly relax without worrying someone would get hurt. I had let go and moved on. Ahh, sweet solitude and freedom. Hello, soft grass. Birds overhead, I see you. Sun, I feel how warm you are today. I feel the soft breeze moving across my face.
And then, there were hands on me and a face in mine. I looked up to my 7 year’s frown and momentarily the bitterness surfaced. Then I laughed at the irony of it all.
She wanted me to push her on the swings. I felt a twinge of ugh, do I have to? I was so comfortable. But I jumped up happily to push her then settled back down into my patch of grass. I thought about it some more. Yes, I’m definitely not interrupted much at all anymore. I can do pretty much anything I want to do. My eyes can wander, my mind can wander. I started writing in my head. This freedom is great!
And then, I opened my eyes to see my 11 year old sulking towards me. I laughed out loud that time. So much for not being interrupted!
She needed something, too; a consolation of sorts. After she moved quickly off, I reminded myself:
They will always need you in some way.
You can fight it and be bitter. You can be there and enjoy the opportunity. Holding on to the resentment won’t take away their need or your role as helper. Letting the moment happen and appreciating it rights the course that much faster for everyone. Why waste time arguing over it when you can just do it and move on? You’ll increase everyone’s happiness, reduce your feeling of being burdened and enjoy a moment with your kid. They will know they can continue to come to you when they need help, won’t be afraid to ask, and and learn how to give with a smile. The time is takes to be there is much less than the time spent if you resist. The satisfaction feels much better than the dissatisfaction that occurs when one of you is feeling your needs are not being met.
The truth of the matter is that I will blink my eyes again and time will have carried me farther. Carried them farther away from me. The solitary time is increasing at an ever-quicker pace and I miss them. I will gladly accept the remaining moments I have to make their days better.
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