The Long and Short of Letting Go
My son owes me and my husband money for some purchases and a broken iPhone screen repair. Instead of having him do extra chores (above and beyond his regular household help), I put him to work for my business instead. I'm creating a new life coaching program that includes a crafting kit for each mom; there's a lot of prep work involved in gathering, organizing, and packaging the supplies. My son and I agreed to an hour of work a day during his spring break.
Every day, I eagerly anticipated that hour. My son and I sat side-by-side at the dining room table and built an inventory spreadsheet in Excel, ordered supplies, measured and cut paper, and divided up larger quantities of items into small ziplock bags and plastic containers.
This time with my son was the shortest hour of my day.
Based on the number of times that my son looked at the clock on the screen of his newly repaired iPhone, it was the longest hour of his.
This is where we are now: the years when my boys would much rather be with their friends than family - or doing anything but spending time with me, the years when my husband and I are too embarrassing to be introduced to friends, the years when planning for family time activities is met with barely restrained groans.
Looking back, I see it started early, my son's leaving and my letting go. Like when he was three years old and ran off to be with friends at daycare without looking back. When he was six and didn't want to hold my hand anymore. When he started asking at nine years old if he could just stay home instead of going with me to run errands.
Last Sunday evening he came home after spending the night at a friend's house followed by a full day of hanging out with his friends at the mall, the park, another friend's house. I met him at the front door with a big hug and said I missed you. He pulled out of the hug and replied with a smile that it had only been a day, then walked to his room and shut the door.
He's growing up, pulling away, doing exactly what he's supposed to do.
I'm doing exactly what I'm supposed to do, too: slowly letting him go, whispering quietly as he walks away, I miss you, I miss you, I miss you.
Every day, I eagerly anticipated that hour. My son and I sat side-by-side at the dining room table and built an inventory spreadsheet in Excel, ordered supplies, measured and cut paper, and divided up larger quantities of items into small ziplock bags and plastic containers.
This time with my son was the shortest hour of my day.
Based on the number of times that my son looked at the clock on the screen of his newly repaired iPhone, it was the longest hour of his.
This is where we are now: the years when my boys would much rather be with their friends than family - or doing anything but spending time with me, the years when my husband and I are too embarrassing to be introduced to friends, the years when planning for family time activities is met with barely restrained groans.
Looking back, I see it started early, my son's leaving and my letting go. Like when he was three years old and ran off to be with friends at daycare without looking back. When he was six and didn't want to hold my hand anymore. When he started asking at nine years old if he could just stay home instead of going with me to run errands.
Last Sunday evening he came home after spending the night at a friend's house followed by a full day of hanging out with his friends at the mall, the park, another friend's house. I met him at the front door with a big hug and said I missed you. He pulled out of the hug and replied with a smile that it had only been a day, then walked to his room and shut the door.
He's growing up, pulling away, doing exactly what he's supposed to do.
I'm doing exactly what I'm supposed to do, too: slowly letting him go, whispering quietly as he walks away, I miss you, I miss you, I miss you.
How Will you Spend Your Day?Coaching + Crafts
Free Guide You tell your kids to wait just a minute. You tell your boss you'll finish it tonight. You tell your husband I'm just too tired. What do you do when you're spread so thin that everything is getting only the Leftover You?
Get The Well-Crafted Mom's Coaching + Craft Guide for a great self-coaching tool called How Will You Spend Your Day? It will make managing your time and energy easier so you aren't overdrawn at the end of the day. You'll also get step-by-step instructions for creating a memento to help you build a simple routine to integrate this new idea into your everyday schedule so you can focus on what matters most. |
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