Being a Mom…Always

Big week for the Cornings. Our first and third grade sons both started a brand new school and rode the bus for the first time. Ever. It was epic. It was the end of a chapter of their lives – going from a very small Montessori “cumbaya” environment to the great big local elementary school complete with its own cafeteria, nurse’s office, and computer lab. They were beyond excited. I was…well…conflicted.

Big boy school and the big boy bus are both reminders that my babies are indeed growing up. The Chinese binding doesn’t appear to be working any longer. And as a mother who feels so completely and totally connected to and responsible for her sons it is bittersweet watching them hop out of the nest, so to speak. I mean, it wasn’t all that long ago that I was breastfeeding them and now they can make their own breakfast in the morning. Okay truth be told it is usually cheese puffs for Jack and a bowl of peanut butter for Sam (peanut butter? in a bowl? with a spoon? Hmm.) But nevertheless, in my mind that counts.

So it got me thinking: How much longer do I have of this whole “being needed” gig. Even at the bus stop, Jack, my third-grader, wanted nothing to do with me. I was cramping his style with the fifth-graders who came motherless to the bus stop on their razor scooters. My first-grader, however, asked me to sit next to him on the curb and rested his head on my knee. Sigggghhhhh. Is third grade the turning point and it’s all downhill from here? And come to think of it, what do I really bring to the table for boys? I can’t throw a ball straight to save my life and I’ve already told them girls don’t play video games as a means to deflect ever having to help out with any technology related questions. I’m going to hell I know. But it’s not like I will talk to them about getting their periods or “becoming a woman.” Will they look at me scornfully if I try to weigh on “becoming a man?” Like what does this chick know? Yes I went into a total tailspin.

But that night I stepped onto my bathroom scale and I was reminded that children will always need their mamas. Because the digital read-out displayed the number 314 lbs.

My friend Kelly, gave birth to one of the largest people I’ve ever met in my life. Her son stands at about 6’7″ and weighs 314 lbs. I know because he used my scale last week when he was at my house. Her son is in his last year of college and everything in his life is probably about to change. And that is kind of scary. Exciting but scary. This probably won’t shock you but her son plays football well. Really, really, well. And there is more than a good chance that if things keep going the way they have been that he could be playing for the NFL next year. And as cool as that possibility is it is pretty overwhelming to a kid in his early twenties. And so her son has been seeking her counsel. I don’t think he’d ever admit it nor would she claim to be the wisest most all-knowing person. But it Is clear to me, at least, that there is a degree of comfort for her son to know that he can talk to his mom about the thoughts that are rattling around in his mind and keeping him up at night. Now he doesn’t always take her advice or agree with her because he hasn’t just hopped out of the nest – he’s pretty much flying solo. But it is important to him to have her in his corner, at his games, respecting his decisions even if she doesn’t agree. He has the best and truest ally and I think he knows it – even when she is driving him nuts.

The scale started me thinking that it’s not just the young ‘uns who need their moms. my friend David, lost his mother just last week. Now Grace, his mom, was in her nineties. But let me tell you this woman had more vivaciousness, curiosity about life and joie de vivre than most twenty-year-olds. So even though her body decided to quit on her, her mind was a sharp as ever. Prior to her passing, David had told me that physically she was going downhill quickly. But he said even from her hospital bed, with her body betraying her, all she was worried about was that everything was in order for David. She wanted to make sure her son was taken care of – to hell with facing down death. And David and I both choked up. Me because I aspire to be the kind of mother Grace had always been to her son. And David because he was about to lose his biggest ally and cheerleader. And that is awful no matter how old you are.

Because our children will always need us. No matter how big or mature or independent they get. And I have a picture of my scale to prove it.

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