My son is about to turn 10 years old. We are both feeling the immensity of this declaration of a whole decade of his existence.
He has really impressed me with his personal awareness, like, he’s not 8 or 9, he’ll be 10. It feels old to him, and like a big deal. He has been openly appreciating still being “little”, giving lots of kisses and snuggles. But I can see for him it is an important milestone. 10.
When I think of him I think, yeah, he’s almost 10 years old, I need to remember to let go a bit more and let him be older, let him take on more responsibilty, give him the chance to feel out some independance. As a mother of an only child I will need to remind myself of these things regularly. But still in the sleepy morning fog of motherhood I sometimes need to stop myself from cutting his french toast. I fight against this as the holdover of toddler level care still seems to hang in the air.
When I think of myself, I am a bit kicked in the gut, a whole decade? I have dropped off of the productivity churning real world and gotten lost in domestic tedium for a whole decade?
How did that happen?
I was never a real home-maker wanna be, I didn’t have dreams of baking fresh bread in the morning or decorating the house for the holidays. But here I am, the very all-domestic care taker of our family.
So as my son passes into his second decade, I will need to adjust my maternal settings, but for now we have a bit of time to indulge in his still being “little” with extra snuggles and kisses. Get it while it lasts.