Loving My Life on the Wire

Balance. This is one area that is not black or white. It’s a garish blend of tie-dye confusion with no rhyme or reason. My balancing act lost its luster somewhere after child #2.

Each year, my tightrope is raised a bit higher. With my lack of coordination, no wonder hubby insisted on an increase to my life insurance policy. 🙂

Even after 19 years of motherhood, it’s scary, desolate, and daunting. Honestly, I have no clue what I am doing or what lies ahead. But…shhhhhh, don’t tell the kids this.

The oldest has left the nest, but I am faced with two more that like to jiggle the wire. Laughing while they do it. Amused at my ~~survival methods~~ creative moves to say upright.

Standing up here, resembling a lame bird on a rotting telephone wire, I feel the breeze whip around me. Ruffling my feathers. Carrying the whispers of those placing their bets. Wondering how long it’ll take until I jump. Or fall. Hecklers, cause me to teeter, but they are eventually carried off in the breeze.

No worries, though! They are always replaced by others.

I see things my mom would of done and things that I do differently. I feel a burden from this, resting on my shoulders. Making my trek a bit harder.

Looking over my shoulder, I see the beginning. Where is all started. many years ago. Pre-kids.

Everything looked bright and shiny. Hopes and dreams of parenting at it’s finest swirled like cotton candy . Before we knew about colic, homework battles, and hormones. Visions of keeping our precious bundles wrapped up in the generic white, pink & blue blanket from the hospital….never un-swaddling. Life would be nothing but rocking chairs and lullaby’s.

The rope jolts to the left, reminding me to pay attention. I look ahead, to the end of this trapeze act, envisioning my children as grown adults. Living the lives that I helped create. What will they do for a career? Will they stay out of trouble? Will they visit on holidays?

I learned from child #1 that it’s not all laughter and family game nights. The same kids we nurture, love and guide become masters of their own destiny. We just help mold them, until the independence takes hold. Then, grudgingly, we take on a consultant-like role. A role that eats us alive.

For today, I stand steadily. Attempting to complete another step. Dodging stinky gym clothes and questionable clothing choices. I laugh at their humor. I cry at their attempts to be independent. I stand back, cheering while they shine in the glory of achievement.

I relish in the sweetness of freshly shampooed hair. Warm to the feeling of gangly teenage arms enveloping me for a hug. Smiling till my cheeks hurt, when I hear about their successful days and sympathizing with them when a day turns out crappy.

I realize they still need me. Not like in the beginning, but it is fulfilling nonetheless.