Adoration and Suffocation

I'm giving myself a little blog vacation. And so, in that spirit, I offer you something from the archives, about two years ago. Funny how I'm still feeling the same. Enjoy!

I have wanted to be a mother since that day, 33 years ago, when my little sister was born. I was 12-1/2 years old and expected that a baby in the house would be nothing more than another irritation. I didn't think it would affect me in the least. Instead, I fell completely, instantly in love. Here was the one person in the entire world who loved and adored me no matter what. She didn't think I was fat or uncool or had buck teeth. She worshiped me. In return, I showed her off like a new toy. I took her everywhere and bored friends to death discussing her cuteness. Why couldn't they see it too?

And so when I embarked on real motherhood, I assumed that it would be more of the same. Whoa. Reality bites.

My mother didn't tell me that there was more work than walking the baby to the park every day to show my friends. Who knew that infants stayed up all night? Suddenly I knew the deep, ugly secret. While I slept a blissful, pre-teen slumber, my sister screamed the night away. No doubt I provided respite for my exhausted over-40 mother, but I definitely got the better end of the deal.

On the good side, my own children did adore me...for a time. I was all they ever wanted. They clung to me for dear life in good times and in bad. Sometimes to the exclusion of my poor husband who just wanted a baby to hold and love and sit still. They also told me everything - every story from day care, every like, every dislike, every single thought. Who knew that kids could talk this much? Sometimes, in a selfish state of exhaustion, I'd go to work in the morning and sit at my desk, thankful that nobody there wanted to touch me or tell me a story that lasted 30 minutes and came to no conclusion.

And now that my kids are in their teens, I'm wondering where all of that unequivocal adoration went. I know that they didn't stop loving me, but when did they stop liking me? When did their hurts become beyond my expertise? How come I can no longer make it feel better?

They push me away and sometimes it wounds me to the core. They come home from events and I find myself giving them the 3rd degree. Not because I don't trust them, but because I want to know about their lives. What did they do? What do their friends do? What do they think about everything and anything? I just want them to talk to me.

I realize that I need to suck it up, mellow out and end the pity party. It's time for me to give them space and know that they'll come around. If you love something, set it free.....