This morning, I looked up from scrubbing the bathroom sink to catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Glasses slipping down my nose. Hair pulled back in a messy bun that highlighted my grey streak. I did a lot of housework today. It feels important to me that B go off to school tomorrow from a clean house. And so there I was, spray bottle in one hand and paper towel in the other, bent over the white pedestal sink wondering if the hardened peanut butter would ever come unglued from the faucet when, wait, there I was. In the mirror. Looking back at myself. And I looked … relaxed. My messy hair and slipping glasses belied the truth of a woman contented. Calm radiated from my own eyes looking back at me, light and focused. There was color in my cheeks and, most of all, my skin didn’t look as if it was pulled too tight around my eyes and mouth. I stopped and looked at this woman who is me, and I wondered if I looked different to my family today, too. I wondered when this happened. When this good thing had happened.
I’ve taken some time off from work to end the summer and prepare for the school year ahead. It’s another staycation, of sorts. Not so different from the last one, except longer. And I’ve barely thought of the office. I’ve also spent a lot of time with my family—taking impromptu outings to swim at The Lake and at a different lake, having picnic dinners in the backyard, spending time with friends. Apparently the time spent at home concentrating my attentions on my family and myself alone has made a difference in the way I see myself, literally. But the change is there emotionally, too. I have been wound too tight for a few months—at least—but something loosened during these past days spent at home. I am anxious about returning to work later this week. I want to continue to feel comfortable with the woman looking back at me from the mirror. I want to hold on to letting go.
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Tomorrow is the first day of school for my first-grader. It is his day, and I will let it be his. But it marks for me another day to pause and reflect and look into his eyes in wonder. When did he stretch out so lean and long? Just how few years do we have ahead of us before he is taller than I am? And when did he trade in mommy for mom? I am excited for him and nervous for him and proud of him. I am every mother sending her child off to another new year of school. But he is mine. I am his. We are different from everyone else simply because we are exactly who we are. It is my job to keep sending him off into the world. It is my job to remember the boy he has been at every age that now is a part of his 6-year-old, first-grader self. It is my job to let him go. To keep letting him go.
Read More in home, Jen Writes, motherhood, oldest child, three kids
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Those last two lines sum up motherhood. Perfectly.
Good luck to your son (and you) on his first day at school.
Oh, it’s so bittersweet, isn’t it? My eldest is turning 10 this year and is singing along to pop radio stations and arguing with me about his bike helmet. Oh yeah, and he’s almost as tall as me. Letting go is so beautiful and hard all at once. Happy school days to you and your boy!
Squeeze my heart til it bleeds why don’t you? Beautifully said and still so hard to do, the letting go. I remind myself often that I am raising people, people who will spend most of their lives as adults (hopefully) and it is my job to foster their independence. And to treat them with respect so that they will go into the world respectfully. So happy that you have found yourself letting go of the tension and feeling the moments. Another perfect portrait.
Good luck to you both on yet another adventurous year of school!
I wanted to cry when I went from being mommy to mom. The end of an era…
Have a great first day of school tomorrow! My “baby” doesn’t go back until Friday.
Wow. I hope you feel continue to feel comfortable with yourself, to see that beautiful women in the mirror that so many of us have met through blogging.
Sending your little one off truly is unique. A special moment between you and him. I hope it is everything you both expect!
The “letting go” part is the part nobody tells you about before you become a mother. And it squeezes your heart every time, doesn’t it? May your tears tomorrow be happy ones. =>
My favorite yoga teacher (back when I could go to yoga) would remind us to let there be a little more space between our eyebrows as we relaxed. I feel my skin around my mouth too tight, my eyes not quite right. I feel the tension growing and showing. And I love how you wrote that. It speaks to who I would rather be. Holding on to letting go. Yes.
And for tomorrow, well, hugs. It is bittersweet to see them grow into independence. I don’t know why it feels bitter, it is everything I hope for my kids. But I love being Mommy too.
I really needed to read this tonight, the bit about being wound so tight, the bit about needing to regroup. Thank you for sharing that it can be done. That it should be done. A reminder that my work life should not be so detracting from loving and living with my family.
I’m so glad you were pleased with your reflection, because I was a bit nervous for you. (I’ve had some bad moments in front of the mirror.)
I love your last line. It is our job to let them go, isn’t it? It’s the most beautiful and heartbreaking job in the world.
This was the first day that the 3-year-old wasn’t in school and the 3-month-old was. And I went from the comfort of having a sleepy little cooing companion in the back of the car to having a nonstop chatterbox asking me everything from the sublime to the ridiculous: “Why are you sad, Mommy?” to “What would happen if a princess lived in a volcano?” And I felt my back rising, my shoulders clenching, my mouth setting. Then I came home and read your post. Ahhhhhhhhhhh.
Wishing him a happy day. It’s so hard to watch them, inching away from us, but all the same, it’s our job to let them.
I wonder if the relaxation is from the sense of accomplishment – of what you wanted to accomplish and the fact that you were working toward that goal.
Wishing you both love and luck on his first day of first grade.
It is wonderful to have epiphanies doing every day stuff.
Here’s to another year of adventures and growth. Always so exciting, always so bittersweet.
Yay for you and happiness in what you saw in the mirror. Don’t those moments make up for all the other encounters in front of it?
Oh the sweetness and peace that radiate from this post. I’m approaching a similar place (at least, I hope I am…like to think I might be) and the only proper response seems to be awe.
And my oldest started grade one today. Oh my.
Mmm, so true.