He's Practically Grown
I can feel the end now, and it’s changing the way I mother him.
I spent so many years with so many questions.
Is he okay? Is this right?
Does he know how to do ________?
Is he being challenged? Over-worked?
Does he have friends? Does he have passion?
Am I teaching him everything he needs to know?
Should I push him a little harder? Or lighten up?
Can he mow and do laundry and unclog a toilet and cook scrambled eggs in a pan?
Is he hardworking? Is he compassionate? Is he brave? Is he curious?
And, more importantly, is he kind???
But…
He’s a senior now. He’ll be leaving home this summer. And I’m realizing he’s mostly grown.
These days instead of all the pushing and shaping and meddling and teaching, I’m just…noticing.
Really noticing my wise and strong, capable and compassionate, brave and incredibly kind son step fully into himself.
He drives and fills his car with gas using money from his own bank account that he maintains by working hours at his weekend job.
He wakes himself up for school or basketball practice and stops to offer his friends a ride along the way.
He unloads dishes or cooks eggs and hugs his little sister goodnight before she goes to bed and holds long conversations about politics or religion or the world waaaaay after I’d like to be sleeping.
He wears the clothes he wants to wear and dyes his hair his own way and recently decided to pierce his ears (which I secretly LOVE).
He is just…himself.
Practically grown.
And, sure, almost every day I find dirty socks on the floor or a melted red slushy perched on the arm of the couch. I still think he eats terribly and stays up way too late. Sometimes he rolls his eyes my direction. And he could probably push himself a little harder in school.
But I can feel the end now, and it’s changing the way I mother him.
So, these days I’m just noticing and soaking in my amazing, mostly grown son.
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