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As My Son Grows, So Too Does My Definition of “Mother”
The bittersweet evolution of what it means to be a parent as your child grows up
“Mommy,” my son looks at me, excitement pouring out of his face. “Can I play hide-and-seek with my friend in our house this afternoon?”
“Sorry buddy,” I tell him. “I’m working from home today, it would be too loud.”
His face deflates. I have crushed his world.
Then he thinks for a minute and I can see the spark return. “But mommy when do you go to the office this week?”
“Thursday,” I tell him.
“Can you stay the whole day and maybe until five so then we have lots of time to play then?”
I look at him and smile.
I smile at his excitement. I smile at his joy. I smile at the friendships he has and his ingenuity.
But inside, a small part of me mourns.
Only a few months ago he would beg and cry for me to not go to the office. He wanted me to stay home with him all the time — with no exceptions.
This is better, I know. On a rational level, I prefer this.
Independence is part of growing. Friendships are vital. He needs to be able to live his own life…