I fell asleep on the couch last night.
I’ve never done that.
I go in Ashton’s room and there’s no teenager in sight.
Then I see this. He is sprawled out on my bed just like he used to do when he was little. I can’t help but smile.
To hold on until he’s ready to let go. It’s the exact thing that we want for our kids and yet, it’s a constant heartbreak for us mothers. Because as much as I want to raise this kid into a person all his own, that means he has to become less mine, and that’s the constant grief of motherhood.
By this time next year, he’ll almost be entering his sophomore year in high school. He will be with his friends that he’s grown up with since kindergarten and daily activities that don’t involve or include me (appropriately!). I want that for him so deeply, but the reality of it, the actual handing him over to the next phase of personhood, is just a heart punch I didn’t see coming.
Some days, I forget to be grateful for this parenting journey. I forget to stop and focus and enjoy the days that pass in blinks. Today, I am beyond grateful for this perspective shift, this reminder to slow down and savor. To be present.