Cutting the Apron Strings

Earlier this year, I wrote about the next stage of motherhood, the one that I could never see because I was too deep in diapers and potty training and temper tantrums.  At that time I was a bit anxious about the transition.  Those days of anxious anticipation have now passed.  My boys are now both in school.  Dare I say I have adjusted to this new stage?

Isn’t that always the way with motherhood?  It’s really a series of stages, each one presenting its own set of challenges.  Some challenges we know are coming (potty training, everyone’s favourite), and many surprise us out of nowhere (picky eater times two).   All give us ample opportunity to worry, fret, plan, revise plan (anyone have a plan F?) and then we come out the other side with a big sigh of relief (not there on the picky eater thing though, seriously, plan F, anyone?), a few thousand more grey hairs and some sense of pride that we made it through another battle.

I remember thinking when my boys were babies that it would get easier as they got older.  I very quickly learned that wasn’t true at all.  There is no easier, only different.  This transition is no exception.  The challenge now is when to start cutting the apron strings.  When do I start trusting my kids who have proven they are responsible time and again?   The trusting part is easy, it’s the letting go of the million and one fears of what could happen to them if I am not with them every single moment they are not supervised by their teachers.

It’s a gradual process for me.  We live within walking distance to the school both boys attend.  When our oldest started kindergarten I walked him right to the door, both ways.  In grade one, we scaled back.  He met us at the crosswalk so he was not crossing any streets by himself.  In grade two we parted at the corner with just one street to cross.  

This year he is in grade 3.  I trust him.  He’s old enough.  He’s mature enough.  He is responsible enough to remember to pick his brother up every single day and help him across the street safely.  The problem was me.  Could I let him do all that?

When he was ready, he let me know.  I took a leap of faith.  I had to, whether I was ready or not.  All the stars had aligned; to make him wait for me seemed unfair.  Not to mention that I have learned that when he’s ready,I jump or I will be waiting a long, long time for him to be ready again.

The first day was scary.  I waved goodbye at the window and watched them walk down the street, out of sight, to the first corner.  My heart started beating faster.  What if they get hit by a car?  Could I ever forgive myself?  I should have gone with them.  What was I thinking?

I carried the phone around with me for the next 20 min.  If they didn’t make it, the school will phone.  It didn’t ring.

The morning passed by at lightening speed.  I watched the clock, envisioning what they were doing -  the bell has rung, older son is now on his way to pick up little brother, five minutes pass, 10.  Where are they?  I start pacing.  Tidy this; straighten that, anything to keep my mind from going there.

Finally, after what seemed an eternity (5 min) the door opened and in popped both of them, smiles beaming.  I sighed internally realizing that the first time is always the hardest.

I have to trust that I have taught them the necessary skills and that they no longer need me with them every second of the day.  Because really, in the end, isn’t that exactly my job?

Original post to Canada Moms Blog.  Kami can also be found at Kami's Khlopchyk