{"id":235853,"date":"2023-09-16T07:58:19","date_gmt":"2023-09-16T07:58:19","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/lovemainstream.com\/?p=235853"},"modified":"2023-09-16T07:58:19","modified_gmt":"2023-09-16T07:58:19","slug":"my-kids-teen-years-are-making-me-painfully-aware-of-how-fast-time-flies","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/lovemainstream.com\/lifestyle\/my-kids-teen-years-are-making-me-painfully-aware-of-how-fast-time-flies\/","title":{"rendered":"My Kids' Teen Years Are Making Me Painfully Aware of How Fast Time Flies"},"content":{"rendered":"
\nGoing through my normal evening routine, tidying up the kitchen, I was jolted with a surprising realization: I was home alone.<\/em> For the first time in, well, forever.<\/p>\n \nIf you had asked me how I’d feel about that a decade ago, when I was a SAHM with four kids ranging in age from 8 to infancy, I’d have said, “Are you kidding? I would LOVE to be home alone!” At that time in my life, I often felt like I was drowning in motherhood: always being clutched by sticky fingers, wiping butts, wiping noses, doing household chores with a baby hanging from my boob. Someone needed something from me at all times. I would have given anything to be in the bathroom<\/em> by myself, let alone have the whole house<\/em> to myself.<\/p>\n \nTo compound that problem, anyone with four little kids can tell you that they’re never, ever<\/em> all gone at the same time. Even if you’ve got three kids spending the night at various friends’ houses, you’ve still got one at home — so to have all four gone at once is exceedingly rare. I can name one single time in my entire 18-year history of being a mom when all my children were out of the house.<\/p>\n \nUntil now, that is. <\/p>\n \nThese days, the oldest three are teenagers, and the youngest, my “baby,” just started junior high. And on this particular evening, one was with his girlfriend, one was at football practice, and two were hanging out at friends’ houses. They had trickled out at different times, so I had barely noticed that they were all gone — until the stark silence came crashing down on me. When it did, I stood motionless at the kitchen counter for a moment, sponge suspended in my hand, absorbing the solitude. And then … the tears came.<\/p>\n \nI don’t know exactly why. I guess it’s because it gave me a preview of a time in the (disturbingly near) future when all of my kids will be gone — a time that I dread. Never in my kids’ lives have I felt so uncertain about what the next few years will hold, or so keenly and painfully aware of how fast the time is going. Every now and then I’ll calculate the approximate number of Christmases they’ll wake up to race for their stockings under our shared roof, or the number of summers we have left until each one graduates and my heart literally feels like someone is squeezing it. Of all the roles I’ve played in my lifetime, the biggest and most important by far is the primary role of Mom. My work, my friendships, everything else has always been secondary to motherhood in these years while they still need me. But when that role is no longer the main one … will I even know who I am?<\/p>\n