You kind of fall into motherhood. You had this baby and nobody warns you about how much your identity will change. Well, maybe they did warn you, but you did not believe it would happen to you. You navigate this new life and identity that has been thrust upon you with caution, exuberance, and cluelessness. You muddle your way through trying to hold onto as many moments as you can while still keeping your head above water. These little moments are difficult to hold onto (especially when your children are very young), because you often find yourself walking around in a fog. 

When my kids were eight and nine I finally felt like I had found myself again. I finally felt like I was really owning motherhood and did not feel like such a novice. My new identity as a mother had finally fallen into place, I was confident, and I had carved out a comfortable space for myself. Things felt right. 

Fast forward to today. My children are now in the eighth and ninth grade and I am starting to feel like I am losing myself again. The anticipation and dread of them growing up, going to college (or an apprenticeship like my oldest has his sights set on), and moving out has made me feel this way. This huge part of my life, this thing that has identified me for the past fifteen years is going to change. Soon. 

I feel lost. Again. I feel as though my purpose in life is going to change so much that I will no longer recognize the person I finally became. I am not ready for this, and it is something that I think about often. Nothing that we do can change the outcome; our children grow up, they move out, and they begin their lives as adults. Our purpose as parents has been met if we have allowed them to get here successfully. Still, the emptiness that is starting to nag at me is very real and frightening.

Ten-year old boys are funny creatures, they are starting to grow up and become more independent, yet they are still such little boys. They insist on doing things for themselves, but they still ask for help on many occasions. They will walk around a store on their own, but will also quietly reach for your hand as you walk through the grocery with them. They will insist that they just want some time alone, but then ask for you to cuddle with them on the couch. They are starting to like things that are more grown up, but they continue to like and play with toys (and even though they will not admit it will play with their sister and her toys).

Each year our elf, Buddy, leaves the kids each an advent calendar on the last day of November. Of course, I am the one who acquires the calendars at Aldi and always do this as soon as I see them out, usually this is at the beginning of November. This year was no different than any other and once I go the advent calendars home I found a nice hiding spot for them so that that kids could not find them.

Today we found out that our son told a girl in his class that she was, “fat and ugly”. He was not the only child who did this, a friend of his also said these unkind words, but what he did was wrong. Something you should know about our boy is that he is a sensitive soul. If we tell him he needs to work on his chewing at the dinner table his feelings are hurt, oftentimes there are tears; this is why it surprised me that he would have done something so hurtful to another child.

Today has been a rough one in the Clem household, part of the reason is that we are at the end of the first week of Christmas break and another part is that it is so cold outside we cannot get out to run around. My nine-year-old came downstairs to let me know that he had broken something. I immediately knew that the reason something was broken was due to the fact that he was using an old wooden cane as a sword (don't ask why we have this around...) and this caused me to be angry before I even saw the damage. R.J. felt bad, there were tears in his eyes and it was obvious that he knew what he had done was wrong; he had knocked a picture off of the wall and the glass had broken. Of course in the grand scheme of things this is not a big deal, nobody was hurt, the picture frame can easily be replaced, but he was being careless, and I lost my shit. I know that I said some things that I should have refrained from saying and that I could have handled myself better, but I did not. Once I took a couple of deep breaths I asked R.J if he understood why I was upset, of course he did. I asked him if this was different from the time he knocked a vase over at my brother's house, and he said it was, he knocked the vase over because who puts a three foot tall vase next to the fireplace when they are going to have a house full of kids? R.J. was standing next to the fireplace with his cousin and just backed into it...boom, shattered glass, immediate tears, but he was not at fault because he was not being rowdy or rambunctious. I then told him to go get the broom and dustpan and help me clean up the mess, I gave him a hug, told him I loved him, and the moment was over.