Mommy Blog

The Last Time

in Giggles on October 10, 2022

It’s official.

I’m no longer getting old…I am old.

How do I know this?

It could be the fact that I sound like someone is popping bubble wrap each time I get up from a seated position. Or, perhaps it’s the arrival of lower back pain—that’s a new and unwelcome addition to my days. It could even be the appearance of new lines on my face or age spots everywhere else. But it’s not. None of those things put me on high alert for my arrival into the Elderly Era.

My formal notice presented itself in a most unexpected fashion. As of late, I am filled to overflowing with feelings and emotions of nostalgia. I cannot help myself. I, who cannot usually remember what I did last weekend, can suddenly remember EVERYTHING about certain past-tense events from the two decades since Jeff and I started our own little family. And while those recollections are generally centered around happy times, my heart breaks with each memory.

For years I have spouted and shouted that the “end goal” for child rearing was to release them into the wild…hopefully as solid, kind, and productive citizens of society. That’s the way I was raised. That’s the way my husband was raised. Therefore, we raised our own offspring with that very same mindset. We knew (hoped) that our children would be ready to leave our nest when the time was right, and go off to build new nests of their own. We knew this. We wanted this.

However, in all of my planning, dreaming and praying for my children’s futures, not once did I take into consideration how I would actually feel when the first one fully understood his assignment…and left.

Many of you know what a Christmas fanatic I am…weird transition, I know. Stay with me. I’m also fully aware that it is still early October, and the mere thought of Christmas-anything makes the majority of people cringe.

But…

I am not most people. The approaching season of Christmas replenishes the deficit that my soul feels throughout the year; therefore, I look forward to Christmas with an almost childlike anticipation and excitement. This is also the time of year in which family photos are taken. I love looking back through the years, and watching the kids grow. I’ve had the same photographer take our family pictures, the kids’ senior pictures and special events for roughly a decade. Last week I scheduled this year’s session. Barely two minutes into my conversation, I started crying.

Crying.

I did not put all of the pieces to my family puzzle together, until I got on the phone with Tanya…then, the weight of my family’s dynamic hit me like a freight train.

This year’s picture will be our last official family picture.

Ethan is getting married in June. After these next eight months pass, I can no longer require his presence for things such as: pictures, dinners, etc. This is the last time.

Yesterday, I picked out the last coordinating ensemble for our Christmas card. After I put the assorted shopping bags into the back of my SUV, I sat in the driver’s seat…in the parking lot of Kohl’s…and let the tears freely fall.

The last time.

Of course Ethan and his bride will ALWAYS be invited, welcomed, and wanted for the same events and occasions as now…but…they are starting their own family—with their own traditions—they have their own dreams.

That was the objective, right?

Right.

I was just woefully unprepared for this feeling of loss.

Believe it or not, I am thrilled beyond measure about the new journey my firstborn is about to embark upon. He will soon know the wonders, joys, and struggles of married life and (God willing) parenthood. All of those stepping stones are exciting parts of life. I am thankful he’s found someone to share his life with, and that I get to experience so many new things alongside them both.

The chink in my armor is the collection of all of the “last times” that I have acquired throughout my life. The last time I woke up on Christmas morning to the magic of Santa…The last time I was at my parents’ house in Austin…The last time my children saw my grandparents…The last time I heard my grandmother’s voice…The last time I felt a baby kick me from the inside…And now, the last time I prepare for something as mundane as family pictures.

I’m grateful for the knowledge of my awareness of this “last time.” So often we experience the last time for something without knowing that would, in fact, be the last time. I’m walking into next weekend with my eyes open, fully ready to soak up the entire day. I’m ready for the boys to tell me their sweaters are itchy. I’m ready for husband to complain about the new jeans I bought him. I’m ready (almost looking forward) for Emma’s incessant eye rolling because she has to stand next to her younger brother—arm-in-arm—and pretend she likes him. I’m ready for my future daughter-in-law to show off her Christmas red lipstick and politely decline to acknowledge that she’s marrying into a certifiable train wreck of a family.

This is the last time, but it’s only the last time for this season.

The next time, will be the first time…and THAT is something truly special.

The true strength of a mother lies in her ability to hold on while she’s letting go.

https://youtu.be/LWkoquUvD98