Connected

"I know there's an invisible string that's going from my heart to your heart. But sometimes I feel like it's going around a corner and it's getting stretched out so thin."

I yelled I love you out the window to my son as I dropped him off at highschool. Even though his friends were close by. Even though he's 14. He didn't mind. He still hugs me in public places when he needs a little love. We are connected. 

For two hours they've all been gone. One wore all camo for the new teacher He has been so looking forward to because he is sure his teacher likes it. One rode his bike to school so he could get there early on his own terms and in control of his own schedule. The little one ran off to his friends without a second look, so very happy to be with them just like me. 

I can see each of their selves in their own personal styles, so different from eachother. Classic and simple, the bmx guy, the 4th grader who thinks camo is cool, and the 6 year old with his collared button up and cardigan. I loosely hold the reins and let them take the lead, have their preferences and interests. This keeps us connected. 

It's the first day of school. A normal year we hope one without masks and distancing. Where they can sit close with their friends and lean over a book, high-five in gym class and wrestle at recess. 

Dad makes breakfast, a smoothie with the last of the peaches, eggs and hashbrowns. Lunches and waterbottles are loaded into backpacks, bright new shoes at the ready. Things they have carefully chosen, decisions they have made about what they like and want. Not just things but who they are and want to be, how they interact with others, what they want to do and be a part of, things they want to achieve. 

All day alone I feel the pull from my heart to theirs. My mind is working planning ahead for supper, an afterschool snack so it is free to listen, listen, listen when they get home to all they have to say. Listen underneath the surface too for what they feel. 

All this long last year and a half we have been together and I consider how together does not mean connected. How 'absence makes the heart grow fonder' can be true. How an abundance of time can push us apart as much as it brings us together. How a little distance, a little room and variety thickens up that string until it's nice and stout and we are connected. 

Wanted

You know that thing where people with grown kids tell people with little kids
You're gonna miss this
I know what they mean
Yes you'll miss their chubby cheeks and wispy curls and heavy bodies nestled into you
But you know what it really is?
The thing they're really missing 

is being liked and adored and wanted so much

I have spent 13 years being loved and needed

That long time of being steeped and drenched in love
Even when I wanted to be free, even when I was exhausted or intellectually starved I was marinated in love

And now I'm not

Yes they still love me but they are growing relationships with others, they are becoming resourceful on their own
The need for me and interest in me is making room for their evolving which is wonderful and joyful in another way

It's not wrong of my husband that he doesn't love me and need me and want me and like me every second like four babies do
He loves me like a normal grown up with personal space and time apart and differences of opinion

This occurs to me and I realise this is what a normal adult life is like

Just being yourself, doing your thing, not receiving a constant stream of toddler love oxytocin as I have been

This is what the people mean when they say 

You're gonna miss this

And I have to get used to it
this price of freedom 

lasts

No one ever talks about the 'lasts'

The 'firsts' are a big deal

You catch all those milestones

But the lasts creep up on you

They happen and they slip in

Camouflaged as firsts

First step

First word

First bike ride

And suddenly you know next year he won't even need you to bike along with him

He'll be zooming ahead

And there's hardly any last firsts left

He'll be reading

Have his first day of school

Loose his teeth 

Go to camp

And all these firsts will be fainter because his brothers have done them before and they are busy with all their new firsts

But they are His firsts

Still special and important

And they are my lasts

Last year of a little person curled in a towel on my lap

Last baby to cuddle in my bed in the mornings

Last to discover the wonder of a bug or a puddle or some amazing thing we all take for granted

Last baby cheeks to change into a handsome face

No one ever talks about them but here they are

Happening

They are happening and I have to love them and let go

This is the great paradox of motherhood

This is the tearing of the heart in two directions

For while I longed for this time a decade ago now I am heartbroken to see it go

I know I will love my 'freedom' that I sometimes wanted so badly

And I realise we are going to keep having lasts and lasts and lasts for another 15 years 

They will be exciting new things to be proud of 

And they will be firsts

And they will be lasts

And they will be okay