I wonder sometimes if my kids know and feel how bewildered I am by them. My adultish kids. I say adultish more for my benefit than theirs. I am ignoring the fact that in 6 months my eldest will be the age his father was when we got married and a year after that he will be the age his father was then we had him.

Children are clay. You mold them and they dry eventually. But remain malleable for a long while. Slowly hardening in the spots you worked on, and the ones you neglected. Once they’re older and harder if you try and change their shape they will break.

Here are some thoughts I‘m having today as one child is entering his final year of university and another one starting her first. There’s an almost panic that comes with realizing they have grown and are no longer in your orbit all the time. Yes there’s also pride and excitement. There is a sense of knowing that you have done the majority of raising them already. and whatever is left are add ons, suggestions even.

But saying that we are done raising them is a lie right? I still turn to my mother for advice and she still points me in the right direction when I need it. Saying we don’t need this as adults would mean we don’t need anyone’s advice or help or support.

We continue to raise our children but with more tact, a softer touch and a lot of respect for the shape they settled in.

When do you think this ends? Do the tables turn and they start directing us?