I'm in mourning

I’m in Mourning

I turned 45 yesterday, and I woke up today inexplicably sad. However, while I ran, I realized that I am sad because, like it or not, things in my life are changing, and I HATE change. (The furniture in my house is still in the same spot it was in when we moved in 17 years ago, and whenever I get a new piece of furniture or décor it is a very traumatic process (one that usually involves having my mom come over for moral support) to figure out where to put the new piece of furniture or hang the new picture.) Last night as we walked into Samurai 21 for a fun, fun, fun dinner with my family, I walked behind the four remaining children who live under my roof, and I wondered how and when they got so big. (Did I REALLY give birth to those 4 (plus two more) big human beings?!) And when I made some comment about missing 2 of my children, Kaylee reminded me that in 3 more months she’ll be gone. (That’s a 50% reduction in kids in the last three years!) Now I wouldn’t want it any other way. I love that my kids have grown up to be smart, independent (sometimes a little too much-I wouldn’t mind a few more phone calls/e-mails from the two that have already flown the coop) people who are actively pursuing education, living the gospel, and doing good things with their lives. However, I miss bathing , reading to, swimming with (ya-my kids can all swim on their own now-so what do I do in the water now??!! Laps??!!) and napping with those 4 pre-schoolers (Yes, I had 4 kids before kid #1 even started school); having 6 kids all small enough to be completely in my “control,” and still cooperative enough ( or maybe oblivious enough) to allow me to dress them all alike. I miss putting them all to bed (all in the same bedroom-we have a 7 bedroom house, but until my oldest started school, I kept them all in the same room-loved it!!!)and actually staying up AFTER they are asleep. (It is seldom that I am the last one in bed these days.) I miss hugs and sticky fingers, and a baby boy who sucks his thumb. (Luke humored me, and did this until almost third grade-I know-horrors, but I secretly liked him to suck his thumb and hold my hair-at least he still hugs me, and occasionally does so with sticky fingers-he’s ten.) And I have been ready, soooo ready, for each of my children to leave. By 18, my kids are more than ready to be independent, and my need for control causes me a lot of stress when they want to go do “grown-up” things that scare and worry me (road trips with friends; stay out later than I think they should; etc. etc.) I like that I don’t always know what they are doing when they move out. It’s hard for me to believe that any person who at one point needed me in order to be fed and changed and dressed could possibly make ANY responsible decision without the input and controlling safe-guarding of yours truly. So when they move out, I repeat the mantra, “What I don’t know, can’t hurt me,” and I try to believe it. So I guess it’s a little oxymoronic when I say that I“couldn’t be happier” with my children and my family, but I am still “in mourning.”

My little kids

My big kids