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Forgive Me While I Mourn the End of an Era

My usually compliant, loving, easy-going daughter just told me that I was annoying, weird, and that I was embarrassing her. We were the only ones in the room, I might add, so I'm not sure if she was embarrassed that the sofa or the sheetrock was listening in.  She didn't want to do her homework or fold her laundry; she wanted to go hang out with a friend. I was encouraging her to do both. Incidentally, she will be 12 in two and a half months and she has a pimple on her chin. 

She eventually got the required laundry and homework done, but sadly her friend was unavailable. So she cleaned her room and practiced her viola. Bonus!

A mere few weeks ago, after witnessing a large amount of teenage angst coming from a certain older sister, she promised me that she would always be nice to me. I told her I would hold her to it. She already forgot. 

In the evening she snuggled with me on the couch and said she wanted to stay there forever. I will cherish those sweet moments even more since in the coming days I suspect they will occur less frequently.

As my youngest child is on the threshold of adolescence, I am in the process of letting go of our old traditions and routines while holding onto the memories. At the same time I am trying to allow new customs and rhythms take over. It isn't easy and I am mourning the end of childhood years with my children and bracing myself for more hormones and the unpredictability that comes with teenage and young adult children. 

I am also wondering if I have done enough, loved enough, laughed enough, taught enough. 

Are they prepared for what lies ahead?

I am learning where the line between my responsibility and theirs lies.

I am watching with wonder, awe, frustration, hope, tears, joy, faith, and anticipation as my little flock ventures out further. All the while wondering when they will completely leave the nest.

I mourn and rejoice simultaneously.

I watch and pray continuously. 

It is sometimes lonely and oftentimes rewarding watching my humans become who they are meant to be. There is a lot of trial and error on both of our parts. The instruction book that didn't come with the newborn didn't magically appear at adolescence.  My kids are good, kind, capable, hard-working, compassionate, and fun. But they struggle as they are meant to. And they will reach the summit stronger than they were when they started. 

I will survive this transition, but for a moment I will mourn. When we reach the top together I will be better because of them. 

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