I love my children, and feel that they are my whole life. But they aren’t. They can’t be. And they have their own lives to live.
I wish they could all stay little and it was still in my power to keep them safe. The truth is that, as much as we wish it – it is never true. Look at all the terrible natural catastrophes. Every year seems to bring a different one. Hurricanes, tsunamis, earthquakes. They show us how little we really can control the world around us.
The fact is that it is not in my power to stop my children from growing up. Part of the process seems to be, and it happens to all of us, to get into stupid idiotic messes that should have been avoided instead of created.
Right now one of my early twenty-year-olds is in a mess that he created, left to simmer and there is nothing in the world I would like more that to be able to clean up the whole thing by changing his diaper and dropping him back in the playpen where he belongs.
Well, it’s his mess. He created it and he is going to have to face the consequences of his actions. And there just isn’t too much I can do about it.
I just feel that somehow it’s my fault. I should have taught him better, been a better example – something.
Something.
I think every mother out there knows this particular brand of heartbreak – heartache.
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