Having twins, everyone says, is double the trouble, double the fun. True--but it is also double the joy, double the sorrow. My babies, the ones who kept me sleep deprived throughout 1995, when I was also trying to keep up with their 3-year-old brother, will turn 18 next month.
Every day brings a new college recruitment letter for my daughter. My son is waiting for me to track down some medical records so he can go forward with his military enlistment process. Next year, the holidays will be so different, and it has hit me that this might be the last Thanksgiving, the last Christmas, when we are all together. Next year, my daughter will be starting the process where she transitions from coming home to visiting home to visiting parents. And my son will answer to the military's need for him, not to his mother's.
How did time get so far away from me? I have finally figured out what kind of mother I want to be, and I have run out of time to become her. I want a chance to make up for all my parenting mistakes and make sure my kids are fully equipped for what comes next. My guess is that they are far more ready than I realize. They certainly are more ready than their mother is.
The fact (I hope) that their older brother will be sticking around for a while helps me some, but I find that I am grieving and raw as I try to steel myself for the inevitable consequence of raising children. I am excited for my kids, but I had no idea it would be as hard as it is--and it is still months away for me.
Please bear with me, world, as I try to figure out how to do this without crying a gallon of tears every day. I know I will be okay, eventually. My kids are going to be wonderful adults, and I know they will always be my babies. But for a little while yet, their mama is going to be just a little sad.
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