Last week, my 21-year-old son, Jake, wandered into the kitchen and asked if I could assist him with making a cup of coffee. Now, if you own one of those modern Keurig machines, like I do, you’ll know that it’s a straightforward process. You simply lift the lid, pop in a K-cup filled with coffee, select your cup size, and hit “Brew.” Easy peasy, right?
But he’s my firstborn. He was the one who enjoyed having a young and eager mom who meticulously laid out his clothes each night, cut the crusts off his sandwiches, and peeled his apples. These days, I barely manage to remember to buy apples, let alone peel them.
So, while I held back a chuckle at his request for help, I soon realized he wasn’t really asking for guidance; he wanted me to make the coffee for him. “Alright,” I said, “let’s start by opening the machine.” I guided him through the entire process, and before long, he was savoring a steaming cup of joe.
Soon after, his 11-year-old brother, Max, strolled into the kitchen and made himself an omelette. He heated a pan, 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 topped it all with Frank’s Hot Sauce and settled in to watch Drake and Josh while sipping hot chocolate made from the Keurig.
The contrast between my first child and my youngest never ceases to amaze me. It’s incredible to see how much my younger son has thrived from the experiences I shared with his older brother. My constant hovering may have hindered Jake’s desire to do things independently, even though he’s certainly capable of it.
In fact, he proved that today when I dropped him off to catch the bus for a summer internship an hour away. This role requires business-casual attire and a level of maturity befitting an adult. When he walked into the kitchen for breakfast before we left, I was taken aback to see him, all grown up, pouring a bowl of cereal.
Of course, there was a lot of assistance leading up to his first day. We went shopping for some proper work clothes, obtained his monthly bus pass, and did a test run to find a commuter lot where he could park for free. Figuring out the bus schedule posed some challenges, but it’s understandable; he hasn’t had to navigate anything like this before. His younger siblings have had the advantage of learning from his experiences—be it picking up an instrument or applying to college—he paved the way.
Watching him step out of the car and join the crowd waiting for the bus felt surreal. A part of me wanted to jump out and ensure he got on the right one, but I resisted the urge and drove away, seeing his new jacket disappear from view in my rearview mirror.
Later, he texted me to let me know he was on the bus (thumbs-up emoji). “Thanks for the ride and everything else, Mom (heart emojis),” he wrote. I knew he genuinely appreciated it. Despite our occasional disagreements, he understands that I always have his back.
Navigating the fine line between being an overprotective parent and simply lending a helping hand is tricky. I hope I’m leaning towards the latter. By the time Max heads into the world as an adult in ten years, I suspect there will be less hand-holding since he’ll have witnessed his three older siblings blaze their trails.
But I digress. After this morning’s events, I’m grateful to still have my little boy around—someone who can wrap his arms around me for no reason, belt out Maroon 5 tunes in the shower, and occasionally forget to use shampoo.
Time flies, folks. In the blink of an eye, you transition from handing your child a Gatorade to a commuter mug. People often say this, and when you’re knee-deep in carpooling and chicken nuggets, it feels like it will never end. Then suddenly, it starts to wind down, and you’re left in disbelief.
All I know is I’m looking forward to picking him up from the bus later and hearing about his day over dinner, which I’ll prepare to celebrate his big milestone. He may have shifted from skateboarding attire to khakis and a dress shirt, but he’ll always be my baby.
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Summary
In this heartfelt reflection, Jessica Kent navigates the challenges of parenting, contrasting the independence of her younger son with the more sheltered experiences of her firstborn. As her eldest embarks on a summer internship, she reminisces about the bittersweet nature of watching her children grow up while cherishing the little moments that remind her they will always be her babies.
Keyphrase: parenting journey
Tags: [“home insemination kit” “home insemination syringe” “self insemination”]