I do not claim to be an expert on raising children.  I have definitely made my share of mistakes and  I acknowledge that I have probably caused unnecessary and undue pain in their lives.   I have set bad examples,  I have unwittingly shared my worrisome habits with  them. To my dismay, they have all three seen my worst side. But I can honestly say, without a shadow of a doubt, they all three also know how very much I love them.  I have done the best that I have known how to do at the time.  I am flawed and selfish in my own ways. I deal with life in ways that seem wrong to some, and right to others.  I have been on the receiving end of “Karma” and on the giving end.  I have prayed for my children and I have screamed at God about my children.  I have spelled words to keep a secret from them and I have taught them to spell.  I pushed them to learn to swim at an early age because I nearly drowned as an young teen- my way of saving them. I watched Disney movies and musicals with them as an adult because I never watched them as a child. I  read them the nativity story from a “little golden book” every Christmas because it had become real to me only after becoming a parent.  I taught them to love others, to not judge or disrespect those who may look different or believe differently. They were to treat people fairly, to be generous, to help someone up that is down, to share in their abundance AND  in their poverty.  I treated them with kindness and respect as children, then as teens and now as adults.  They call me for advice, to share in their good or bad news. They come by when they can, their schedule, most days, packed with life. I don’t fuss or argue, I don’t manipulate or pout. I simply revel. I revel in their attention, be it short lived or not. I gleem every ounce of knowledge I can from their words…their stories…their life. I make recommendations when needed, I offer recipes and  hand-me-down household items.  I practice karaoke, alone in my car in case they ask me to sing a duet with them. I watch youtube videos of current dance moves, so that Saturday nights on the back patio under  the Christmas lights that have been up since June, will be spiced up and a topic of conversations for a week.    I cook their favorite meal for their birthday, I make a homemade dessert of their choice and I wait for them to love homemade gifts from mom more than anything that can be bought.  I watch them run a house,  learn a new job, work to secure a future. I remind them of learning to ride a bike and how you have to keep at it and one day it just happens…you find yourself pedaling all by yourself. I remind of when I cruelly forced them to walk for themselves across the hot sand, knowing that in just a few more steps we’d be at the salty, cool water’s edge- the ultimate reward for scalded feet. I bite my tongue on every “I told you so” that comes to mind and replace it with “you will be ok”

I hear a lot of talk about an empty nest feeling as your children grow up.  The feeling that I am feeling has nothing to do with an empty anything…….I feel peace…accomplishment….joy….. pride….deep love and a bond nothing on earth can take away. I never imagined when holding each little bundle of joy, that I would be gaining such good friends…my children….they have changed from those that I coddle to those that are my protectors, from my responsibility to my providers. Those that were once at my feet are now always on my heart and on my mind. No matter where they lay their head…they know I am only a whisper away.