like trying to hold water in my hands

There has been an unfamiliar and rather uncomfortable feeling within me as of late.  Almost a sense of panic.  That nervous feeling one gets when coming up against a deadline and knowing that you are not going to get "it" all done in time.  And, for me, as I approach a deadline, I usually think of a gazillion new ideas of "its" to accomplish before the deadline;  I have that feeling as well.

For a few weeks I searched, trying to pinpoint the feeling.  Ennui?  Not exactly.  Mid-life crisis?  Ahem.  Then it hit me:  my eldest child, my precious Firstborn, is thirteen years old now and only a year away from starting high school.  How could it be?  Do we possibly have time to accomplish all of those Grand Adventures and take those many journeys I'd imagined as a young first time mother all those years ago?  Is five years long enough to learn Latin, study great literary works, find a path to youthful entrepeneurship, master basic home repairs and cooking, travel to a foreign country or two, create and manage an urban farm (his interest!), camp along all the rivers of Texas, and, well, so much more?

The answer, in short, is I don't know.  Maybe.  Maybe we will get all of that checked off the list.  Maybe none of that is important. Who knows, maybe Firstborn won't leave home in five years.  Perhaps he'll stick around longer to work or go to college.  But, inevitably the time will come when he is ready to go out into the world and forge his way.  And a big part of me looks forward to that day because that is what our work has been here at home:  preparing children to be confident and wise in their independence.  And because, oh yes, I do eagerly await seeing the man he becomes.

But, on the other hand, five more years?  Now that we have thirteen behind us, I realize all too well how short is five.  And five more with my dear Firstborn who works hard, thinks hard and plays hard could never be enough.  Five more years to fill with daily laughs, catchy quips, unexpected embraces, knowing glances, life's lessons of victory and defeat:  it could never be enough.  Five more years to watch him explore and dream big all with his long-awaited little brother shadowing his every move and gesture?  Most certainly not enough.

This summer, Firstborn went off to summer camp for two weeks--three states away.  And he really didn't miss us.  Not because he doesn't love us and all that is Home.  But because he was immersed in good times and new experiences and at the end of each day, he was exhausted.  His big paws had substantial occupation.  I was glad.  I was glad for the confidence this boy has grown.  This boy who was once so very cautious and reluctant to leave his mama's side.  I was glad for this boy who has been dreaming of adventure getting to hide in the cavernous trunks of redwood trees, hike so high he found his head in the clouds, camp in the open mountain air and wet his hands in the water of Pacific Ocean.  I was glad for this boy who cheerfully--and mischievously--enjoys the company of four sisters and a toddler brother to get out and bond masculine for a couple of weeks.

But it gave me pause for thought.  Of course it did.  Pause to realize that trying to hold on to all of this wonder of youth and joys of mothering this precious young one is like trying to hold water in my hands.  In a few short years, I'll still be his mother (it is a life long occupation, of course), but our family history will be altered irrevocably.

I feel such regret for the times I have wasted on Anger, Frustration, Impatience, Blame and Frivolous Worry. So, I am kicking those killjoys outta the house.   For real.  For good.  Knowing that all too soon, my Sunshine, and then my Rosebud, and in quick succession, the others, too, will be thirteen...fourteen...fifteen, and starting to dream of their own futures---futures that don't include morning nature walks with Mom, family rosary and dessert each night after Dad finishes work, Friday movie night, summer road trips in the big van, and all the quirks of life in this chaotic abode---I intend to drink big thirsty gulps of that sparkling, life-invigorating water before it all slips out of my hands.