No Going Back Now!

My oldest got his Learner’s Permit yesterday.

For most parents, that would strike fear and sadness into their hearts.  For me, not so much.  I have been anxiously anticipating this achievement, and I look forward even more to him driving independently.

Most parents of tweens and teens get to the point that they want their children to learn to drive, primarily so that the parent (mom) can quit her chauffeur job.  But for most of those parents, it’s a bittersweet moment.  It’s another milestone; their baby is growing up.  Some parents yearn for the days that their babies still fit on their laps, and the relative “ease” of having toddlers (as compared to teenagers).  Not me.

From the minute my kids were born, it has been my goal to help them turn into healthy, God-loving, productive, independent adults who move out of my house and bring home my grandbabies for visits.  Each time they take another step toward that goal, I’m a happy momma.  I don’t look back at pictures of their childhood and wish we could go back.  I like that they are becoming more independent of me.  I look forward to the day that I can retire from the daily intimate care, concern, responsibility, and worry for them.  They are doing exactly what God designed them to do, grow up.

So it is with great pleasure and excitement and anticipation and pride and care and concern and responsibility and worry that I celebrate my son’s latest acheivement with him:  his Learner’s Permit.

Crybaby

I never cry.  But for several days now, I have been on the verge of tears.  It catches me off guard and makes me mad.  I don’t like it.  It feels like a loss of control.   And I LIKE to be in control.

These tears are motivated by my kids.  It’s nothing that they’re saying or doing.  It’s the fact that they’re there.  And they need a mom.  And I’m The Mom.  And that job title requires so much hard work.  And  worry.  And stress.  And prayer.  And planning.  And flexibility.  And sacrifice.  And thick skin.  And sleeplessness.  And I don’t want to do any of that any more.  I don’t want to be the Mom any more.

Let me be crystal clear about one thing:  I. LOVE. MY. KIDS.  I love them beyond words and measure.  I hope and pray and plan for the best for them.  They are worth all of the hard work, stress, worry, prayer, thick skin, and sacrifice I have already invested into them, and they are worth more.  I would give up my life for them without hesitation.  On certain days, that sounds like an easier option than continuing to be The Mom.

Sometimes I wonder why God didn’t just make human babies like animal babies.  They are born, feed themselves immediately, stand on their own two or four legs within a few hours, and leave the home within a few months or years.  I doubt that the real mama bear spends anywhere near as much time worrying about her cubs as we human Mama Bears do.  I don’t think she worries, “I wonder if they’ll learn to fish as early as the other bear cubs.”  Or, “I hope they don’t move too far away from home because I want to see my grandcubs.”  She knows they will be what they are supposed to be:  Bears.  That’s how God designed them.

Then why did God design us to be the way we are?  Aren’t we designed in His image?  Does that mean He worries about His children (us)?  Isn’t that why He came to this earth as an infant?  To take care of us?  To offer us the best?  And does He worry when we don’t accept His guidance and gifts and blessings?   Is God on the verge of tears when we turn away from Him or don’t follow his advice?  Does He think this parenting thing is hard?  Maybe THAT’S why he made us different from animals.  So that we can understand Him better and appreciate His love for us.  A parental all-encompassing, worrying, giving, sacrificial kind of love.

Yes, being The Mom is hard work.  But I’m not doing this job alone.  God is parenting me while I parent my kids.  AND He’s parenting them as well.  I need to remember that and quit being a crybaby.