Today, I faced a tough truth: my once-mighty mommy superpowers—the abilities I relied on to scare away monsters lurking under beds, prevent toddlers from redecorating with diaper cream, and shield my kids from potential mishaps—are diminishing as my children grow older, now aged 16, 13, and 10.
Sure, there were times my powers failed me, like when my youngest, at three, decided to turn our cream carpet into a canvas with red Sharpie. Or when my ten-year-old thought it wise to etch Beatles’ names onto his new dresser. But even the greatest heroes have their off days. As long as my kids were safe, I felt relatively in control.
A few years back, I started noticing that my snack-making speed was under scrutiny. My kids began critiquing the routes I took in the family car to their activities, suggesting alternatives. I quickly reminded them that I’m a mom, not their servant or a genie, and so I taught them how to whip up their own snacks. I also reinforced that the person behind the wheel makes the rules for the journey; if they didn’t like it, they could skip the trip to their friend’s house or practice.
Deep down, I considered upgrading my powers to include a turbo mode and a hefty dose of patience. I longed for the days when every small act felt like magic. Yet, I also took comfort in their growing independence.
Then came the heavy questions I could no longer answer—like why grandfathers age and move to assisted living, why illness claims those we love, or how tragedy strikes in places meant for safety. In these moments, I realized my powers had their limits. I couldn’t erase pain or confusion, but I could lend a listening ear and reassure them they were safe, even when I struggled to believe it myself.
Now, my kids have outgrown me in stature, and I can no longer carry my youngest to bed after he dozes off on the couch. My oldest is contemplating college, and soon he’ll be able to sign legal documents and vote. Each passing day, he slips further from my mommy superpowers’ reach.
As I think of all the experiences that lie ahead for my children in this vast, sometimes daunting world, I find myself wishing to freeze time. There are moments I would trade almost anything to keep them little forever, to have a kiss make the hurt go away, or to banish nightmares with a soothing song.
It finally dawned on me today that I’ve had it all wrong. I’m not losing my powers; I’m gifting them. Sometimes this happens willingly, other times my kids have to wrestle them away. But those special powers were never solely mine to hold onto.
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Summary
As our children mature, we transition from being the all-powerful superhero moms to mentors who pass on our abilities, fostering their independence while grappling with the bittersweet nature of growing up.
Keyphrase: mommy superpowers
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