Parenting Insights
Today brought a poignant realization: my maternal abilities—the skills I’ve relied on to dispel imaginary monsters lurking under beds, prevent toddlers from transforming rooms into art galleries with diaper cream, and shield my children from potentially harmful antics—are waning as my kids grow older at 16, 13, and 10.
There was a time I missed the signs when my youngest, then three, decided that the living room’s cream carpet was the perfect canvas for a red Sharpie racetrack. Or when my ten-year-old thought etching the names of the Beatles into his new dresser was a brilliant idea. But even superheroes have their off days. As long as my children were healthy and thriving, I felt a sense of accomplishment.
A few years back, I began to notice my speed in preparing snacks was under scrutiny. My children voiced opinions about the routes I took in my “mom-mobile” to their after-school activities, suggesting they knew faster alternatives. Unfazed, I reminded them that I was their mother, not a servant or genie, and encouraged them to prepare their own snacks. I also asserted that the driver is in charge of the journey, implying that if they were unsatisfied, they could opt out of attending events.
Deep down, I contemplated enhancing my maternal abilities to include greater speed and abundant patience. I missed the days when my every gesture seemed magical and flawless. Yet, I also felt joy in their growing independence and self-sufficiency.
Then came the harder questions—why do grandfathers age and have to relocate to assisted living? Why do loved ones face illnesses like cancer? How is it feasible for someone to harm others in a place of learning or worship? I realized my powers had limitations. There are matters beyond a mother’s explanation. In those moments, all I could offer was a listening ear and reassurance of their safety, even if I struggled to believe those words myself. I may not be able to eliminate their pain, but I can help lessen its weight.
Now, two of my children have surpassed my height, and I can no longer carry my youngest to bed if he falls asleep while watching TV. My eldest is contemplating college, and soon he will be of age to sign documents and vote. Each day, he moves further away from the reach of my maternal powers.
As I reflect on the experiences that lie ahead for him and my other children as they transition into adulthood in a world that can be both beautiful and daunting, I occasionally wish to pause time. There are moments I would do anything to keep them small forever—to ensure a kiss could always heal their wounds or that I could dispel nightmares simply with my presence.
Today, I realized I had it all wrong. I am not losing my powers; I am willingly passing them on. Sometimes this transfer is done with love, and other times, my children must wrest them away. The powers were never solely mine to possess.
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Summary
This article reflects on the inevitable transition of motherhood as children grow and become more independent. It emphasizes the bittersweet nature of releasing maternal powers and recognizing that these abilities are meant to be shared as children navigate their own paths into adulthood.
Keyphrase: maternal powers transition
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