Parenting
Always My Little One
One morning last week, my 21-year-old son, Lucas, strolled into the kitchen and asked for assistance in making himself a cup of coffee. If you’re familiar with the modern Keurig machines, you know they are user-friendly. You simply lift the lid, insert a K-cup filled with coffee, select your desired cup size, and press “Brew.” It’s that straightforward.
However, Lucas is my first child. He was the one who experienced the benefits of having a young, enthusiastic mother who eagerly laid out his clothes for the next day, trimmed his sandwich crusts, and peeled his apples. Nowadays, I can barely manage to purchase an apple, let alone peel one.
I held back a chuckle when he sought help with the coffee. As he sat down to glance at his iPhone, it became clear that he didn’t genuinely want to learn how to make coffee; he simply wanted me to do it for him.
“Alright,” I said, “let’s start by walking over to the machine and opening it.” I guided him through the entire process, and soon enough, he was savoring a hot cup of coffee.
Not long after, his younger brother, 11-year-old Max, entered the kitchen and prepared himself an omelette. He retrieved a pan, heated it, cracked an egg into a bowl, added some egg whites from the fridge, sprayed the pan with cooking spray, and whipped up his breakfast. He drenched the omelette in hot sauce and settled down to watch his favorite show while enjoying it with a hot chocolate made in the Keurig.
The contrast between my first and fourth child never ceases to amaze me. It’s remarkable how much the younger siblings have thrived from the “neglect” of their oldest brother. Lucas, although capable, often seemed less inclined to try things for himself due to my constant support.
This was evident when I dropped him off to catch the bus for a summer internship an hour north. This opportunity required a business-casual outfit and a mature demeanor. Watching him pour a bowl of cereal in the kitchen before we left took my breath away; it was a glimpse of the adult he’s becoming.
In the days leading up to his first day at work, there was certainly a fair amount of guidance. We shopped for appropriate attire, acquired his monthly bus pass, and practiced navigating the commuter lot where he would park. Even reading the bus schedule posed some challenges for him, but he had never had to tackle anything like this before. The younger kids have always benefited from Lucas paving the way, from learning instruments to gaining college acceptance.
As I watched him step out of the car and blend into the crowd waiting for the bus, I felt a pang of instinct to ensure he got on the right one. I resisted the urge and drove away, observing the back of his new jacket disappearing in my rearview mirror.
Later, he texted me to confirm he was on the bus and en route (thumbs-up emoji). “Thank you for the ride and everything, Mom,” he wrote, accompanied by loving emojis. I knew he genuinely appreciated it. Despite our occasional disagreements, he recognizes that I’m always in his corner.
Navigating the balance between being a helicopter parent and simply providing support is tricky. I hope I’m leaning toward the latter. By the time Max heads into the world in a decade, I anticipate there will be less hand-holding, thanks to Lucas and his other siblings showing him the ropes.
However, I’m getting ahead of myself. After that morning, I’m grateful to still have my little boy. He still gives me spontaneous hugs, sings Maroon 5 at the top of his lungs in the shower, and sometimes forgets to use shampoo.
Time flies. One moment you’re handing your child a Gatorade, and the next, it’s a commuter mug. Many parents say this, and when you’re knee-deep in carpooling and chicken nuggets, it feels never-ending. But then, as life slows down, you find yourself thinking, “What just happened?”
I’m eagerly anticipating picking him up from the bus and hearing about his day during dinner, which I’ll prepare to celebrate his big milestone. While he may have transitioned from casual wear to khakis and a dress shirt, he will always remain my baby.
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Summary:
In this reflective piece, the author shares poignant moments of parenting, highlighting the differences between her firstborn and younger children. As Lucas embarks on his journey into adulthood with a summer internship, the author grapples with the bittersweet nature of watching her children grow up. Despite the challenges of parenting, she cherishes the small, joyful moments that remind her of their enduring bond.
Keyphrase: Parenting Reflections
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