I don’t even know how to write about how I’ve been feeling lately. This blog is all about change and stuff, and it’s about me. The Momma. There’s just such an incredibly huge mixture of feelings.. that words just don’t fit them. Yanno? There’s dread, anxiety, joy, excitement, pride, love. Love is the biggest one. But the others are still there.
We are in the home stretch. And I’m starting to panic. Really. I don’t handle change very well, (seriously, ask my therapist) and .. Change, she is a’comin. Fast.
Nine more months until the wedding.
24 months until The Twidgets graduate.
26 months until I leave Stefnee, Kansas and move to Brian, Kansas.
I’m a planner. Procrastination is not something I do well, and I already have lists and plans and strategies and… I’m really starting to feel overwhelmed. I want to enjoy the moments…. but I’m struggling with letting go and I’m finding myself tripping over the details.
I need to breathe and relax… but if I close my eyes for a nanosecond, it’s going to be over.
The Babies are almost done with High School. I just….. I don’t have words for that. The days of diapers and walks with the wagon, the nights of snuggles and nursing, the months of growing and changing … have brought us so close to this …. looming transition… and quite frankly, I’m not sure I can do it.
For the last 22 years, I’ve been The Momma… and … gah. It’s shifting. I’ll still be The Momma, but my entire job description is being rewritten… and I don’t know what it’s going to look like. It’s hard.
It’s exciting, watching these people that Scott and I have raised.. seeing them grow and set off on to their individual paths. I’m so proud. But I’m also scared out of my fucking mind. I mean…. holy shit, people. LOOK HOW FAST THAT WENT!!
I’m struggling. This isn’t a flowery-feel-good blog. Sorry. It’s raw and it’s emotional and it’s hard. But it’s where I am today.
I want to dig my heels in, grab the hands of everyone in my circle and focus on stopping the world for a few minutes. I want to control every day, plan it out, write the script … And. I. Can’t.
And I’m working on being OK with that. I’m shifting my focus. Daily. I’m not looking at my planner, and I’m looking across the table at the Men-Children sitting across from me. And I’m going to enjoy them.
And cry. I’m going to cry. A lot. Over the dumbest shit. But.. let’s be honest. It’s going to happen.
And I’m going to remember silly little things like how excited they were when they were about three years old and discovered that magnets stick to stuff. I’m going to remember how little hands felt on my cheeks. I’m going to look forward to more Big Kid hugs, the way they drape themselves over my shoulders when they hug me… like they think maybe I could pick them up one more time. I’m going to savor wet beach towels in my car on days when the temperatures could fry eggs on the sidewalk. I’m going to enjoy every episode of Ancient Aliens that they force me to watch and I’m going to love walking through the living room and letting them explain to me which anime show this is and what the plot is.
I’m going to write every detail down so I don’t forget them. I’m going to enjoy this.. and I’m going to work really, really, really hard to let go. Just breathe. It’ll all be ok.