I’ve been taking my son to visit high schools. It’s been a disaster. I didn’t realize how hard it would hit that so much time has gone by. I remember swaddling and holding him in my arms when he was a baby. We all know how that goes. I haven’t even put all my children’s photos in albums yet. I kept putting it off thinking there was so much time. Now, when I try to arrange a few, I can’t even remember if they were three or four-years-old – seven or eight. Thankfully, they remember.

I confess – I’m a crier.   I cried when my children took their first steps. I cried the first time that nursery school door closed behind them. I cried when they first boarded a yellow school bus. And the tears rolled the first time I went on a two-day business trip away from them. As I was packing, my son, three at the time, held up his beaten brown teddy that he never parted with. “Take it so you remember me mamma,” he said. Of course, I cried.

There are the sad tears and the happy tears – a distinction my children are much better at making now that they’re older. But one thing is constant with me. There are tears.

So here we are, my son and I, on a tour of a high school he is considering. Although he fiercely wanted to be apart from me, he stuck close in the crowd. Defying his actions though, he baited me. “You know mamma, after high school I’m gonna go to college and then get an apartment and live on my own. Not much time left to be with your baaabbbbyyyy.”

“Not worried,” I replied smiling. “You’ll always be my baaabbbyyy.” But his words danced in my mind as the tour guide’s words fell upon deaf ears. He was right. My little boy was growing up. I watched him walking in the crowd and pictured him walking the halls on his own. Putting his books in a locker. Hi-fiving his friends on the staircase. Trying to sit next to the pretty girl in class. No, there wasn’t much time left to be with my baby.

As the group began to ascend the stairs I pulled over to the side. JJ followed. “What’s the matter?” he asked. But he knew with one look at my face. “Oh no Maaaaaaaa,” he whined. “Not now. Not here.”

I didn’t want to cry. I just couldn’t help myself. “You started it with this I’m all grown up crap,” I quipped. “It’s your fault.” He hugged me and we both laughed. I dried my eyes, put on my sun glasses and we fell back into the crowd. But I spent the rest of the day on the verge.

When the tour was over I was elated. Time to go home where I can be his mother again. We had parked the car across a boulevard, one very long block down. Not wanting to walk to the corner to cross at the light, I stepped out between two cars and looked to my left. That’s when I noticed lights on top of the car I stood in front of. Thankfully they weren’t on. But the cops were watching. I would think that they were amused, either at my stupidity – or my gall.   Immediately I backed up pushing my son to the sidewalk and said loudly pointing down the block, “We’re down that way.”

JJ knew exactly what was going on. “Smooth move mamma. About to lead your son across a four lane boulevard by jaywalking in front of a cop car. With the cops inside! Almost as good as the time you were parking and hit the traffic cop’s car.“ He ribbed me mercilessly. His laughter was contagious. I was in awe of my emerging adult child.

Yes, JJ and Lara are growing up and each stage of their lives has brought different aspects to enjoy about their evolving personalities. It’s just that sometimes it is a challenge for me to celebrate the changes while mourning their babydom. Although it won’t be tomorrow, time flies, and soon they will be spreading their own wings. I know that if I spend my time pining for their younger years, I’ll miss the stage they’re in now. But the mother in me wants to stop the clock. So I console myself with the knowledge that I am blessed to have them in my life with a front row seat, to watch them grow.

My daughter is a beautiful headstrong young lady with incredible musical talents. Although she doesn’t like to hear it, she’s looking more like me each day. She’s starting to claim my clothes – old and new – and they look much nicer on her than on me. She acts much like me too. She has a definite mischievous side. But her smile, that attracts and disarms, lights up her beautiful young face. My son is a sweet, smart, young man with a wonderful sense of humor and deep empathy. Each night he asks me to sit with him before he goes to sleep. The conversation starts with, “How was your day Mamma?” Then we talk about books he’s reading, how he feels about life, his friends and yes, girls.

Still, this not quite adult but no longer a child stage is quite the challenge for me. While I embrace the young adults my children have become – it’s hard for me to let go of their hands. So yes, I’ll allow myself one night to cry. Quite honestly I’m not sure if they’ll be happy tears or sad tears, because my cherubs are now full grown angels.

(c) SeptemberMom2014