A Little Lost

I’m writing this on Wednesday night. We are leaving early in the morning again for yet another high school tennis tournament that could easily end up being my last big high school sporting event ever, out of the last 26 years in which I (with my husband) have raised four children and supported their schooling, and their activities, and their sports, every single year. Year after year. And this is blowing my mind. And it is blowing my heart. Into a million little pieces.

I never wanted my children to feel like I lived through them. I never wanted my children to feel like I was an endless blackhole pit of need, for them to fill. I always wanted us to enjoy each other as individuals, who are happy and fulfilled separately, but also eager to support, and to enjoy each other. Still, I dove in. I dove in deep into this pool of mothering. I love my family that we have created like nothing I have ever loved, and I love the friends whom my children love. I’m a natural mother hen. I protect those whom I love, and I protect those people whom my people love. One of my favorite boys on the team told me yesterday that it wasn’t likely that his parents would come to the tennis banquet. It wouldn’t interest them. This is a man-child who worked so hard to lose at least 50 pounds, and he worked endlessly to earn his number five spot on the team. All that I could think to say to him was, “Well, aren’t they stinkers?!?” And we hugged each other hard. And I thought, “Wow, your parents have missed out on so much, and they will never, ever get it back. And they will never know what all that they have missed.” And I thought that I am so grateful that I have savored these moments. Because now, “these moments” are almost done. “These moments”, that sometimes, quite frankly, I often wondered, in a frazzled state, if they would ever, ever end, are actually coming to what feels like a sudden, and abrupt close, and honestly, I feel a little lost. Honestly, I feel a little lost. I feel a little lost.

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

6 thoughts on “A Little Lost”

  1. Oh Kelly, I feel your pain. If you’ve done your part right, you’re supposed to feel lost and sad, I think. I remember feeling like a pinball, just pinging off the walls. It gets better. A new normal swoops in and stops the pinging. And you move on, one foot in front of the other. But those mothering years, all 26 of them, will stay rooted firmly in your heart. (And your mothering isn’t over yet.)

  2. Kelly,
    I hear you..and I feel your heart. You may feel a little lost, but you will be found in a completely new way and in a completely new place.
    Your daughter’s new adventures will create different ways she will need you, and you will bond differently. The new will take over where the old are dropping away.
    Reading your blog today, took me back to my oldest son’s end of his tennis days, where I was heavily involved. We moms, all lamented on the last games, senior rec, the last parties. It is difficult, and I too, know that feeling.
    You are not lost, you are so in touch with this that you are feeling it all, and grateful for it. How GREAT is that!!!
    BTW-My son had a friend who played tennis and his parents never came to one game, they did not even pay for him to play….we moms all pitched in for him, and on senior rec day, all of the teammates walked onto the field while he received his recognition. We moms, were all so happy for him and his teammates. We were grateful for that too!
    Savor these days, which I know you are, there will be new adventures. Change is so difficult, but in its own way exciting!
    You’re in my thoughts!!!

  3. I can relate!
    Although I only had one child, I can’t begin to count the number of hours that I devoted to volunteering in the classroom, holding an office in the PTA, doing fundraising, chaperoning field trips, etc.
    And in my off-time I made thousands of round trips to every skate park in Southern California with a vanload of sweaty boys and their grimy gear. In the moment, I complained bitterly that they asked for so much of my time, but then they got driver’s licenses and I was cut out of the picture. Only then did I realize how much I had gained by getting to know my son’s friends and being a peripheral part of their activities. Last week my son and I were talking about his high school years, and he said, “Yeah, you were always there and that was cool.” That touched my heart because I always had the distinct feeling that he wished it wasn’t always his mom hanging around. He also noted that his best friend’s parents set foot on campus for the first time when their son graduated. That felt sad to me.
    Embrace the feelings as this chapter ends. You’ve devoted a lot of time, energy, and heart to supporting your kids’ activities, and frankly, you deserve a medal for it. Your husband deserves a shout-out as well for being willing to support the family so you could be present for your children. It’s a shame that more people don’t view raising a family as a team effort. Kudos to you both.

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