Putting off letting go
I am going to mop my kitchen floor today. A good part will be done on my knees, by hand. It is a hardwood floor that usually just needs a touch up, a good sweeping and a damp mop. But lately, I've let things go and it needs the full treatment. I've even purchased a new mop for the occasion.
It's a chore I've been putting off.
This week, exactly 4 months prior to his 13th birthday, I realized that my youngest son may not yet be chronologically a teen, but he really is one. Twice this week, he has whined at me, and harumphed at me, complete with the dreaded "eyeroll." It's official. I live with three adolescents.
Up until now, this child was content to just be a child. But more and more I see the changes. The need for more privacy. The occasional girlwatching. More time "alone" in his room, and the part I like the least.... the complaints to me whenever a task is assigned. Doing chores has always been a part of this household, but when the teen years come, some kind of weird attitude or sense of entitlement shows up on the scene-- and it becomes a less cooperative venture. It has happened with the others. It's happening again. 'Nuff said.
Over 18 years ago, I stood staring over my oversized belly at dirty linoleum, awaiting the birth of child number one. A friend advised me to stay active to help induce labor. So I mopped the floor. Contractions started in the middle of the night and I gave birth later that day.
I have always remembered my first birth whenever I wash the floor. It was a night where I let go of the "the-two-of-us" stage... and there, with the physical and emotional pain of labor, moved into the new stage of family and childhood.
For years I fully embraced the childhoods of my three children, often wanting to put off letting go to the next stage. I never "rushed" my children to grow up. It was OK to linger until one was absolutely ready. But whether I wanted to embrace it or not, adolescence came right on schedule.
The first two went through puberty at the same time. It was a rough transition to the teenage years, but we survived. These days, the oldest is filling out college applications and the middle one is filling out a driver's permit. There are girlfriends and boyfriends at family gatherings. We talk about money and schedules and homework and chastity instead of stories and playdates and dress-up and make-believe.
The door of childhood is slowly closing... it is a bittersweet transition. There will be just a couple of toys under the tree this Christmas. And I am learning to do this better, even though with my youngest, it is like a chore I would rather put off. I'd love to linger just a little while longer, but time is marching on, and he is ready, even if I am not.
And so I'm marking the transition of "giving birth" to another adolescent, and our remaining years at home, with the activity that first ushered in the childhood years... I am mopping the floor. I am sure to mop up a few tears along with it. And I will pray for each of them as I offer up this chore I would rather put off.
If you are a mother, I'm sure you understand.
It's a chore I've been putting off.
This week, exactly 4 months prior to his 13th birthday, I realized that my youngest son may not yet be chronologically a teen, but he really is one. Twice this week, he has whined at me, and harumphed at me, complete with the dreaded "eyeroll." It's official. I live with three adolescents.
Up until now, this child was content to just be a child. But more and more I see the changes. The need for more privacy. The occasional girlwatching. More time "alone" in his room, and the part I like the least.... the complaints to me whenever a task is assigned. Doing chores has always been a part of this household, but when the teen years come, some kind of weird attitude or sense of entitlement shows up on the scene-- and it becomes a less cooperative venture. It has happened with the others. It's happening again. 'Nuff said.
Over 18 years ago, I stood staring over my oversized belly at dirty linoleum, awaiting the birth of child number one. A friend advised me to stay active to help induce labor. So I mopped the floor. Contractions started in the middle of the night and I gave birth later that day.
I have always remembered my first birth whenever I wash the floor. It was a night where I let go of the "the-two-of-us" stage... and there, with the physical and emotional pain of labor, moved into the new stage of family and childhood.
For years I fully embraced the childhoods of my three children, often wanting to put off letting go to the next stage. I never "rushed" my children to grow up. It was OK to linger until one was absolutely ready. But whether I wanted to embrace it or not, adolescence came right on schedule.
The first two went through puberty at the same time. It was a rough transition to the teenage years, but we survived. These days, the oldest is filling out college applications and the middle one is filling out a driver's permit. There are girlfriends and boyfriends at family gatherings. We talk about money and schedules and homework and chastity instead of stories and playdates and dress-up and make-believe.
The door of childhood is slowly closing... it is a bittersweet transition. There will be just a couple of toys under the tree this Christmas. And I am learning to do this better, even though with my youngest, it is like a chore I would rather put off. I'd love to linger just a little while longer, but time is marching on, and he is ready, even if I am not.
And so I'm marking the transition of "giving birth" to another adolescent, and our remaining years at home, with the activity that first ushered in the childhood years... I am mopping the floor. I am sure to mop up a few tears along with it. And I will pray for each of them as I offer up this chore I would rather put off.
If you are a mother, I'm sure you understand.
posted by Pat Gohn at
11/30/2005
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