We’re finally here. Jessie is home from her first year at Wellesley, Sam is moving into his first summer as a working boy and Julianna is wrapping up her elementary school career. The air is soft and warm, the trees are all dressed and ready for summer and I’m adjusting to this new place in my life.
I don’t have small kids anymore. I’m a mom of teenagers, really. Even though my stepdaughters are in their twenties and my youngest just turned 12, I feel like this middle place is where I am. My kids aren’t adults, not yet, not really. My youngest isn’t technically a teen, but close enough to it that I’m soaking up all the mothering I can still do with her.
Julie is such an odd combination of both very young and far too mature for her age. She still likes her stuffed animals and being put to bed every night, but she’s on her phone and kisses me goodnight and then stays awake for another hour or two. She’s on the bridge between the two, and while I know that this stage is fleeting, I find myself wishing she could stay there a little bit longer, with one foot in childhood and one foot in the next stage.
Sam is edging closer to independence. Small steps that don’t seem all that significant, until it’s actually happening. He manages his own meds now, for example. Not entirely, I still fill his med dispensers with the pills, but he takes them without reminders or fanfare. He’s on meds for everything, anxiety, migraines, allergies and mast cells, so it’s a 3x daily proposition, to be taking his own meds. He’s got reminders and just… does it. He does his own zoom meetings, is starting (very reluctantly) to check his email and keep track of his calendar. It’s both reassuring and disconcerting to see him stepping into this stage.
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