I had a profound realization today: my once-mighty mommy superpowers—the magical abilities I relied on to scare away monsters lurking under beds, prevent toddlers from transforming their rooms into art studios with diaper cream, and stop my kids from using each other as human battering rams—are starting to lose their effectiveness as my children grow older at ages 16, 13, and 10.
Sure, there were moments when my powers failed me, like when my youngest, at just three years old, decided to create a racetrack with a red Sharpie on our pristine cream-colored carpet. Or when my ten-year-old thought it was brilliant to carve the names of his favorite band into his brand new dresser. But, like any superhero, I had my off days. As long as my kids were safe and sound, I felt I was managing well.
A few years back, I began to notice that my efficiency in snack preparation was being critiqued. My children started voicing their opinions on the routes I took in the mom-mobile to their after-school activities, suggesting I wasn’t the fastest driver around. They even had suggestions on how things could be done better.
No problem, I reminded them that I’m a mom, not a genie. I taught them how to whip up their own snacks and reminded them that the one behind the wheel makes the calls on routes. If they weren’t happy, they were free to skip that friend’s house or practice.
Deep down, I considered enhancing my superpowers with speed and an extra dose of patience. I longed for the days when everything I did felt magical and flawless. Yet, I also found joy in watching them grow and become more independent.
Then came the heart-wrenching moments when I realized I couldn’t answer every question. Questions like why grandfathers age and move into assisted living, or why people we care about face illnesses like cancer. How could I explain the unspeakable tragedies that happen in schools or places of worship? My powers met their match, and I discovered that some things were beyond my ability to explain. All I could offer was my presence and reassurance, even when I struggled to believe my own words. While I might not be able to erase their pain, I could help make it a bit more bearable.
Now, my two older kids tower over me, and I can’t even lift my youngest to carry him to bed if he falls asleep on the couch. My eldest is contemplating college, and soon, he’ll be able to sign documents and vote. With every passing day, he inches further away from my protective grasp.
As I reflect on what lies ahead for him and my other children in an exhilarating yet intimidating world, there’s a part of me that wishes I could halt time. At times, I’d give anything to keep them little forever, to preserve the magic of a kiss that makes all their hurts disappear, or the ability to chase away nightmares with a simple lullaby.
Today, I finally understood that I’m not losing my powers. I’m willingly passing them on. Sometimes it’s a gentle handover, other times, it’s a battle. But those special powers were never solely mine to keep.
For more insights and resources on parenting during this transformative phase, you can check out our other blog post here, or visit Make a Mom for helpful information on home insemination techniques. For scientific insights about fertility, Science Daily offers excellent articles on the subject.
Summary
This article explores the bittersweet journey of motherhood as children grow older and become more independent. It reflects on the transition from being a superhero mom to passing on powers as kids learn to navigate life on their own. Ultimately, it emphasizes the importance of adapting and finding joy in their growth while recognizing the challenges that come with it.