It’s August again. It’s looking like the end of summer (though my husband is trying in desperate futility to fight it) the sun is going down a bit earlier, the days are steadily getting cooler, and it’s time to start thinking about wearing a jacket in the evening. Before we know it, the leaves will change again and a winter will be upon us. After that, a fresh new spring and then it will be summer again. It all works out, the end of one sparks the beginning of the next and so on…

(Gee thanks for the science lesson on the seasons Captain Obvious)

The end of seasons are bittersweet. I enjoy the transition of fall, but I can’t help but feel a looming sadness for the end of another summer because it means my children are growing up. If you are a parent you must understand that there is a delicate balance to raising children. I believe if you are raising your children correctly, your goal is to have them eventually be independent, yet still need you…but not too much. I try to mix the motherly advice with chicanery and tomfoolery just to keep things even. I have three brilliant children who are all growing up too quickly, it’s a lot like the end of summer and beginning of fall. I am trying to fight it, but they are staying up a bit later, growing a bit taller, and they don’t want me to hand them a jacket as they walk out the door…it’s not cool. Before I know it, they will be another grade level higher in school, they will continue to grow up…and then another year will have gone by and they will be one year closer to graduation. Being one year closer to graduation of course means needing less of their mom, and a growing intolerance of my goofy ass. I guess at some point I should probably look into growing up too…I hear it’s nice.

I worry senselessly about so many things and as I told my sweet father-in-law after his diagnosis with cancer before we lost him nearly two years ago…(miss you Pop…) “Worrying is like rocking in a rocking chair…it will keep you busy, but you won’t get anywhere.” Ever notice how easy it is to give advice, but so hard to actually take it? I also drew a picture of boobs on the dry erase board in his hospital room. See?? Balance.

This is just another transition and we will survive it. I will create new wonderful memories with my growing children and still show them how to be independent, but I will remain hopeful they will always still need me, whether I am being serious or silly.

Thanks for reading my late night ramblings.