I've made such efforts to hide some things from the three of you. And I will continue to do so. Mostly, I do this because it has been for your own good.
I'm a firm believer that life is an adventure and it should be approached with an attitude of excitement and opportunity. And yet, every time your life gains an opportunity for adventure, I "lose" something in the process. This is as it should be. That is the role of a Momma - to be outgrown.
None of you have EVER been homesick, regardless of where you have gone. You have missed home, but never to the point that you felt the need to abandon the adventure you were currently embarked upon. I've made a point of sending you off on any adventure with a smile and a promise to be there when you were ready to be finished. A promise to listen as you recount all the events of your adventure with joy. I've focused you on everything you could do or learn or be while you were on your adventure. And I've done it so many times.
You all made me feel loved when you ask if I missed you while you were on your adventures. And I have lied to you every time, and told you no, that I was excited to see what you did or accomplished or learned - and that doesn't leave time for missing you. And I would NEVER let you know how often I simply sat in a chair and wished that you were home, because I was homesick with you gone. The three of you and the Asst. Zookeeper are my home. Many times, I cried quiet, hidden tears - where none of you could see them. With each adventure, you "outgrow" me just a little bit more.
I lied to all of you the first time you left for summer camp, the first day of preschool. I lied again the first day of kindergarten and then I made sure to save my tears for after you were gone. You can't experience the full adventure if you are worried about how the Momma feels while you are gone.
And now, we are roughly three weeks from another lie. It just dawned on me this morning as I was putting Heathen #3 on the bus and waving goodbye. I've been standing at a bus stop and waving goodbye to an elementary school child for the past 12 years. Sunshine, rain, snow, cold - I have waved goodbye and smiled at you from the driveway as you left on your adventure for the day. And I only get to do it for another 16 days - and then that chapter of my life closes forever. I will no longer have young children.
While I truly am excited for the next adventure of middle school for Heathen #3, this marks the end of an era. No more bus stops for me. No more holiday parties to visit the Heathens. No more having lunch with you. No more of it. Because the adventure will change, and it will be more your adventure than our adventure. And, in the fall, you will head out the door for the bus without me. And I will hover in the window, just like I did when you older brothers headed out the first time alone as well. And I will do it with tears in my eyes - just like I have twice before. But you won't see them, because I won't let you. I refuse to spoil your adventure.
In roughly three weeks, you will all be promoted to the next grade. Heathen #1 will become a senior in high school. You have repeatedly commented this year that your junior year is flying by. Then you ask if I will miss you after next year, when you are gone. And I lie every time, and tell you that I won't miss you because you will always have a place in this house. And I know that as long as I keep food in the fridge, that you will come visit me.
I will admit to already having panicked over the thought of you leaving - not because I don't trust you to care for yourself and make smart decisions. But because, you are part of my home. And a piece of it will be moving on to another adventure. My role will change again, as another chapter of my life closes. You will be old enough to understand my tears - but I will still attempt to hide them. I refuse to spoil your adventure.
In roughly three weeks, Heathen #2 will be an eighth grader. A true teenager. And someone that is starting to spread his own wings and find out who he is and who he wants to become. This is something I can only encourage, but you will have to do the work yourself. And when you falter, which you will, I will continue to support and guide. But I will cry for your stumblings behind a closed door. This is not an overnight process and I can't make it any easier except to suffer with you, but where you cannot see because I would never want you to feel as though I didn't believe in you. You are embarking on the adventure that will lead to you becoming your own person. It should be faced, on your part, with excitement and the thought of possibilities. I refuse to spoil your adventure.
For years, I have watched other mothers cry their tears in front of their children and tell them they will miss them horribly. I've watched them cry and lament what they are losing as their children grow. And I have watched those children worry about their mothers instead of focusing on their "big adventure" of camp or school, etc. I have watched these mothers look at me with disdain, as though I didn't love my Heathens as much as they love their children because I was "obviously happy" to see them go.
I've chosen to look for the adventure in life, and I love my life. I am happy. I have a three Heathens and an Asst. Zookeeper that create my home, wherever we happen to be. How could I raise you to have a sad outlook on life when adventure has served me so well?
So, I will continue to hide my tears, and cry quietly where you can not see me. And I will continue to push you all to look at the adventure to be had - whether it is in the day ahead of you or the next chapter in your own lives. Because that is what a Momma does - teaches Heathens to look for an adventure and approach it with an attitude of possibility.
All my love, Heathens, will always be yours - no matter where you are in life.
Momma
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