Ever since I became a mom, the end goal has been to raise my kids to be thoughtful, kind, independent little firecrackers, ready to take on the world. But now, with my oldest graduating eighth grade and going to high school in the fall, I’m feeling all sorts of things. Honestly, I thought nudging her towards independence would feel more exciting, more like a natural progression, but instead, I‘m going through it.
My spiral really kicked off before her first overnight school trip, which I had volunteered to chaperone. Her class was going for a five-day-five-night trip to Washington, DC, and I was ready—loud coach bus, wrangling kids who weren’t mine, keep an eye on her while giving her plenty of space and distance to hang with her friends or whatever, but then she broke my heart a little the moment she said, Mom, could you please not chaperone.
It’s been a while since I chaperoned any field trips, and I was certainly never wanted at a middle school dance. Still, I thought with this being her last middle school adventure, she might want me to come along for the ride (never guessing I was probably the only one who thought that). In the week leading up to the trip, I worked through my feelings and all kinds of ways—smothering her with affection, lots of introspective journaling, grasping onto my other daughter like my life depended on it. And at some point, the realization hit me like a ton of bricks—oh crap, these are gonna be my last four summers with her.
Don’t get me wrong, the minute she turns 18 and heads off to college (or whatever her next step in life will be), I’m not kicking her out the door and changing the locks. She’s always welcome at her home, and will always have a place to land with me, but the dynamics are going to change. Case in point, another conversation we had about what we were going to do this summer.
She shared a bucket list with me that she put together with one of her girlfriends. There’s a ton they want to tackle this summer before freshman year, and I’m here for it. I love it! They’ve got things from going to the beach to painting pottery to having an all-night sleepover, you know, fun stuff. But, shocking absolutely no one (except me), those plans were only really going to include me as a chauffeur extraordinaire.
Yes, I know this is healthy. This is the endgame, the goal for my kids. To have them grow up to be independent and make good decisions on their own, but I thought I’d be a little bit more excited for it.
Maybe today I’m just in a reflective mood, waxing poetic about feeling like I’m being left behind. The majority of my adult life has been spent with a huge part of my identity as a mom, and yes, I am more than just a mom, but not feeling as needed by my kids feels like a void that I wasn’t at all prepared for.
It makes me feel some kind of way that it seems like she’s not gonna miss me as much as I’m gonna miss her. On the flip side, we all know teenagers aren’t great at expressing any emotions that make them particularly vulnerable. So I’ll just let that small part of me think, hope, and wish that, even though this is what’s supposed to happen next, it won’t be the smoothest transition for her either. That won’t be because I don’t want it to be, but because I hope part of her wants me to be there for the big things too.
I just need to take a deep breath. She’s not totally done with me, but she doesn’t wanna hang out with me 24/7. And yet she also hasn’t barred me from her bedroom. She still wants to do a shopping spree for a wardrobe update now that she’s going into high school and cares about my opinion (not just my card). And, she still says her favorite thing to do with me is our book dates at Barnes & Noble.
There is still plenty of time, and there are still many moments we will enjoy spending together, but as she gets older, it might just look a little different. After all, as an adult, I don’t crave time with my mom the same way I did at 13 or even at 30. But it doesn’t mean we don’t still have a strong, loving relationship… it has just evolved.
Turns out, I might actually have to listen to what my therapist tells me about literally every other aspect of my life: that two things can be true at once. I can mourn the loss of the early years, but also be excited and thrilled about the next phase in the relationship my daughter and I have.
I only have four more summers with her during high school, where I’ll have a little more say in the ways we spend time, even though her interest may wane in the things we do. But growing up is part of life, and I’m just glad I’m here to see it, and am so, so excited for all the experiences she’s yet to have, even if they’re without me.
Holly Garcia writes about parenting, mental health, and all the lifestyle things. She hails from the Midwest, where she’s raising her daughters and drinking copious amounts of coffee.
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