It makes me a little sad to write about it. Melancholy…a little teary…but grateful, as well.
I knew it would happen. I’ve seen it happen with two children. No reason to expect it wouldn’t happen with the third.
Everyone tells you that they grow up so quickly. I knew it intellectually, but truly never believed in my heart that I would be one of “those women.”
I really thought I would welcome every opportunity to see my children be independent, because I’ve worked so hard to allow them the time they each needed to grow that independence.
And then, today, at the gym, Yessa ran into the children’s play space with the two big kids. Without looking back. Without asking me to stay with her for “jus a fw minits, Mom.” And when I came back 46 minutes later, she was fine. Not being held crying by her big sister. Not waiting by the door, watching for me. Just off, playing with Zoe and Zachary.
I am glad, in some ways. I’m proud of her, and proud for her. Still and all, I feel like asking her to stay with me for “jus a fw minits.”