Fall and the identity crisis
Fall’s my favorite. For real, y’all. My nose yearns for the smell of pumpkin bread, my mouth salivates for soup, my legs are obsessed with corduroy, and my tush gets that special tingle from the car seat warmer thingy. Seriously, with morning temps in the 40s the last couple of days it’s been all smiles and energy, waiting not-so-patiently for Fitbit to remind me, hey, it’s time to go walking on sunshine again.
Even though our adventures have stopped, I still see fall as exploration season, after years of the boys and me gallivanting around the countryside. And it wasn’t at all like this was some chore, because everything we did, all three of us wanted to do. Such amazing memories.
It seems like things have changed more this year than they have in a long time, with Trey growing up and breaking away, and Aden becoming less of a little boy and more independent. Not gonna lie, this has been extremely hard on me.
All my life I wanted kids, wanted to experience that bond and be needed. I got what I wanted, exactly what I wanted. Two boys who are healthy and strong, fun and funny, smart and imaginative. And while they still need me, probably too much since it’s becoming apparent that we skipped a few basic life skills along the way, it’s not the same anymore.
I know, I know this is how it should be. It is a good thing for sure. What a blessing to watch them grow and mature, to get to see their personalities morph, to know the secure side of them willing to be their true selves at home, random dancing and all. Definitely curious to see who they will be as teens, then adults. Like an adventure in itself.
But at the same time, it almost feels cruel. I gave my whole entire self to these boys. Have since the moment the Lord reached down and divided their first cells. Body, time, sleep, worry, money, fear, laughter, calendar, every single thing ruled by the ankle biters. Which is also how it should be. Comes with the package.
All the same, they are growing up and I don’t know what to do with myself. It’s fall, our season of togetherness. I was in agonizing labor for twenty-seven and a half hours with Trey and went through months of sciatica and pants-wetting with Aden dancing on my innards and no one wants to go to the pumpkin patch with me!
Seriously? What on earth has happened? It’s like they have decided to stop acting like kids, so now I have to too. The fall me never grew up, y’all.
Their lazy selves don’t want to go apple picking, leaf-pile jumping, walking through the woods, or even meandering through a corn maze. Trey won’t be dressing up this year, so goodbye to the two-boy costume photo on Halloween. Which makes me not even want to try to make those through-the-year Snapfish Christmas gifts for the grandparents.
I just wasn’t ready for this. Had no idea their growing up would hit fall so hard. And I’m a little bitter about it. Enough so that I might just remind the boys again about that whole childbirth thing and force them to go along with me to a farm. And carry the pumpkins to the car. And then help me make a big ol batch of pumpkin bread when we get home.
Sounds like a plan. Seize the day.
Even though our adventures have stopped, I still see fall as exploration season, after years of the boys and me gallivanting around the countryside. And it wasn’t at all like this was some chore, because everything we did, all three of us wanted to do. Such amazing memories.
It seems like things have changed more this year than they have in a long time, with Trey growing up and breaking away, and Aden becoming less of a little boy and more independent. Not gonna lie, this has been extremely hard on me.
All my life I wanted kids, wanted to experience that bond and be needed. I got what I wanted, exactly what I wanted. Two boys who are healthy and strong, fun and funny, smart and imaginative. And while they still need me, probably too much since it’s becoming apparent that we skipped a few basic life skills along the way, it’s not the same anymore.
I know, I know this is how it should be. It is a good thing for sure. What a blessing to watch them grow and mature, to get to see their personalities morph, to know the secure side of them willing to be their true selves at home, random dancing and all. Definitely curious to see who they will be as teens, then adults. Like an adventure in itself.
But at the same time, it almost feels cruel. I gave my whole entire self to these boys. Have since the moment the Lord reached down and divided their first cells. Body, time, sleep, worry, money, fear, laughter, calendar, every single thing ruled by the ankle biters. Which is also how it should be. Comes with the package.
All the same, they are growing up and I don’t know what to do with myself. It’s fall, our season of togetherness. I was in agonizing labor for twenty-seven and a half hours with Trey and went through months of sciatica and pants-wetting with Aden dancing on my innards and no one wants to go to the pumpkin patch with me!
Seriously? What on earth has happened? It’s like they have decided to stop acting like kids, so now I have to too. The fall me never grew up, y’all.
Their lazy selves don’t want to go apple picking, leaf-pile jumping, walking through the woods, or even meandering through a corn maze. Trey won’t be dressing up this year, so goodbye to the two-boy costume photo on Halloween. Which makes me not even want to try to make those through-the-year Snapfish Christmas gifts for the grandparents.
I just wasn’t ready for this. Had no idea their growing up would hit fall so hard. And I’m a little bitter about it. Enough so that I might just remind the boys again about that whole childbirth thing and force them to go along with me to a farm. And carry the pumpkins to the car. And then help me make a big ol batch of pumpkin bread when we get home.
Sounds like a plan. Seize the day.
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