Surreal
is as close a word as can be used to describe life currently. At a point which seems not very long ago, my
life was about raising kids, and it
seemed as though those days would last forever; in a good way most of the
time…really, honestly. Well, some days
it may have seemed like an eternity in a not so great place, but by and
large…good! I was so fortunate to be
home when my kids were growing up, only entering the workforce in recent
years. Even then, the work I have done
has kept me close to them, in proximity if nothing else. The light of the childrearing tunnel has been
a distant pinpoint for many years. One I
have not envisaged apparently for a long while. So this week when I dared look
up, and around, and forward, I realized that the light has become very large,
glaring even, while I hurtle to the conclusion of these parenting days.
I
looked up this week because #4, Elsa, the fourth and last daughter, is
graduating from high school. This in and
of itself has its own out of body experience tied to it. She is an anomaly within our fairly bright
and intelligent family, standing out as a super achiever, graduating 2nd
in her class of over 300! This is her
shining hour to be sure. She has
embraced all of her years of schooling with an enthusiasm and fervor which has
been remarkable to watch. While her
siblings all enjoyed their high school years, Elsa has experienced every aspect
of high school possible to its fullest extent, most of the time with her bosom
chum Libby alongside her! AP classes,
Student Council, Class Vice President, theater, vocal music, lacrosse, NHS,
French Club, Book Club, community service projects, Homecoming dances, court,
Sadies, Prom; there are pictures to mark her investment and involvement in all
of these things and more! Just this
morning she was honored at a local business club as the Rotary Student of the
Month, and it was there that I started to feel overwhelmed with pride in the
person she has grown to be. This 4th
daughter, who I worried would always be growing in the shadow of three older
sisters, has clearly not been shadowed by anyone. She has grown, bloomed and
flourished while the rest of us have watched her with astonishment and a bit of
quizzical wonder through the process. She will graduate with many honors next week, and in the fall move across the country to
attend college and begin a different journey away from me. Away from the home where I thought I would be
raising her (and her siblings) for what
seemed like so many more years.
Surreal
is the realization that this very home, which has been seeping estrogen for so
many years, will, for the first time, harbor a more balanced measure of
estrogen and testosterone. I have always viewed myself as a mother of girls….and
The Boy. This house is, in many ways, “a
girl house,” by color scheme and the feminine paraphernalia that litters every
room; e.g. make-up, foundation garments, shoes, scarves, sundry accessories,
feminine products, and on and on the list goes.
All this does not preclude signs of the lone male cub here, to be sure,
there are many. Balls for one. There are balls everywhere. In the house, in the yard, in the garage, in
the trees, and of course the obvious set, which thankfully we do not see but I
would be remiss to not acknowledge their existence, just sayin’.
The sounds in the house are distinctly The Boys. Train horns. Vines. YouTube videos. Episode after episode of South Park and other such nonsensical
shows. Plates of dried food, and
wrappers from said items, scattered like so much trash in an alley. There are signs.
Over
the next three years I wonder how the estrogen seeping, girl house will
evolve. I wonder if the whiffs of
estrogen that will be left in the wake of the last daughter leaving will linger
in corners, swirling at our feet on days The Boy and I are missing The
Sisters. I wonder if we will miss them
with an ache, like amputees miss their limbs, or if the years of estrogen will
be like a fading memory, pushed out by all the new balance of hormonal
ascendancy. I wonder how quickly these last three years of
parenting will fly by. Actually, I think
I know the answer to that. The last 26
have hurtled by without my realizing the speed at which they were passing. I want to slow things down. I want these next years to move like a
zephyr, softly and gently. I want to
pump the brakes and relish these last years, much like I cherished the first
years. Soaking up the moments, the small
things of everyday life. Even when I
know that many of those small, everyday things will not be centered on the
girl-centric things of the earlier years. Fully understanding and embracing
that these last years of small, everyday things will likely include Vines, and
trains, and YouTube and of course, balls.
