As of this morning, I am no longer the mother of two children; well, until this morning I was the mother of one child and one legal adult (although not legal enough to drink alcohol). I am still the mother of two sons. And I’m still mostly a helicopter parent. But I no longer have to worry who will raise my children if something catastrophic were to happen to both my husband and me; legally, my sons can now take care of themselves. My younger son, for these last seven weeks of high school, can now excuse himself from school. My younger now needs to sign paperwork at his doctors’ offices for them to speak with me. I no longer have children.
I’ve never heard anyone describe being a parent like this. I just had a realization as we sat at dinner last night that my children are adults, and, really, “adult children” is an oxymoron. We are either children or adults, at least legally. Sons/daughters can be either age, as can offspring. And my sons are siblings no matter what their ages. If they were to act goofy or silly, people would look at them askance and disapprove of their childish behavior.
And while I loved every phase of my sons’ childhood, even missing those little boys sometimes, I equally love the experiences that we’ve shared as they have grown into adults. The next few months will involve many new experiences: a son turning 21, a second son leaving home to attend college, and both sons making numerous decisions that have long-term impact on their futures. My adult children.
While they may no longer be children, I have no way to stop being a mother. Whirring helicopter blades and all.