The Summer I Realized I Don’t Have Little Kids Anymore

It Didn’t Happen All at Once

I always assumed there would be one big moment when I’d realize my kids weren’t little anymore.

Maybe it would be a graduation. A driver’s licence. The day one of them moved out.

Instead, it happened quietly.

It happened while standing in my kitchen making lunches that nobody really needs me to make anymore. It happened while listening to Kristian and his friends talk about high school. It happened while watching Ryan and Briar blow out eleven candles. It happened while helping Greyson pack for an international trip without me.

Apparently, childhood doesn’t end with a bang but rather, it ends with a thousand tiny moments that sneak up on you.

Ribfest Was My First Clue

A few years ago, Ribfest looked very different…

It was snow cones melting down little hands, kids begging for one more ride, and me standing by the fence making sure everyone was still alive and accounted for. I knew exactly where all five kids were at any given moment.

This year?

I was a transportation service. I dropped kids off. I picked kids up. I waited for texts that simply said, “Ready.”

At one point, I made the mistake of asking Kristian what his plans for Saturday were.

Without even looking up, he answered, “Ribfest.”

“To eat?” I asked.

I was met with the kind of look only teenagers can give their mothers.

No, not to eat.

To hang out.

To go on rides.

To be with his friends.

Silly me. The food was apparently just a bonus.

Later, when I called to tell him his shuttle service had arrived, I got a text back informing me that he couldn’t talk and texts were preferred.

I would like everyone to know that I pay the phone bill.

(We had a discussion about that in the car.)

Then Greyson Got on a Plane

And then today, my middle son, Greyson, left on an international trip without me. He’s with a dear family friend whom I trust completely. He’s in wonderful hands, and I couldn’t be happier for him. I know he’ll have the time of his life.

But I also stood in his room for a minute after he left. Because how are we already here?

Wasn’t I just packing his snacks and tying his shoes? Wasn’t he just the little boy who needed me to hold his hand crossing a parking lot? And now he’s carrying his own passport and boarding an airplane without me.

I know this is exactly what we’re supposed to want for our children. I just wasn’t prepared for how quickly we’d get here.

The Strange Place I’m In as a Mom

This season of motherhood feels particularly confusing because all of my children are in completely different stages.

Jaidyn is practically an adult. She drives, dances, has opinions about life that are far wiser than I was at her age, and is somehow entering her final year of high school.

Kristian is heading into high school this fall, which feels impossible because I swear I just bought his first backpack.

Greyson is flying to another country without me.

And then there are Ryan and Briar.

The twins still feel little in so many ways, but then they go and turn eleven and remind me that even they aren’t babies anymore.

I am raising teenagers and children at the same time. I still have kids who want a hug before bed, but I also have kids whose social calendars are somehow busier than mine and just make weird grunt sounds at me in replacement of proper dialogue. Neat.

I have one child who still tells me every detail of their day and another who responds to my phone calls with a text message. It’s emotional whiplash.

I Miss Versions of Them That Still Live Here

That’s the strange thing nobody tells you. You can miss people who are still living in your house.

I miss Jaidyn’s little quirks. How she would force Papa to get up and dance to her favourite song and how she would make us all laugh with the weird face expressions and mispronunciation of her words.

I miss little Kristian running his trains up and down the hallways and dancing his little heart out (and staying on beat) to all the songs he loved.

I miss Greyson’s little voice asking me a hundred questions before bed. I even miss waking up at 3am to him sitting in front of the TV (on full blast) with his tin of peanut butter cookies in his lap.

I miss when Ryan and Briar were so tiny that I could carry one on each hip. And how Ryan would bum scooch along the floor while Briar was basically running.

I miss when all five of them fit around me on the couch.

Those little versions of them are gone now. And not in a sad way!

Just in the way that childhood keeps moving forward whether we’re ready or not.

But I Love Who They’re Becoming

The beautiful thing about this stage of motherhood is that while I’m missing who they were, I also genuinely love who they’re becoming.

I love watching Jaidyn become this incredible young woman with new goals and her making decisions to help reach those goals.

I love hearing Kristian and his friends talk about their plans for high school. There’s a lot of laughter coming from him these days that sounds like pure healing.

I love seeing Greyson brave enough to go on adventures without me. Remember, he was the only child of mine who needed to be on a harness leash so he couldn’t get into too much trouble… so this is big. Very big.

I love the funny, sweet, growing-up versions of Ryan and Briar. They’ll forever be my babies but watching them develop their little personalities is a show I am so happy to have front row seats to.

I think motherhood is constantly holding two truths at the same time:

You can miss the little versions of your children and be incredibly proud of the people they’re becoming. You can wish for one more bedtime story while also cheering them on as they spread their wings.

Maybe This is the Reward

This summer has made something very clear to me.

I don’t have little kids anymore. I have children who are growing into their own people. People with plans, friendships, opinions, adventures, and lives that are slowly expanding beyond our front door.

And that’s the goal, isn’t it? To raise children who feel safe enough to leave and loved enough to always come back.

But still, if anyone needs me, I’ll be here.

Probably sitting in my driveway waiting for a text that says, “Can you pick me up?”