Lately, I have been feeling pulled in a million different directions. I am in that weird stage of life where there are many different phases all happening at the exact same time, and I don’t really know how to navigate any of them… instruction manual, anyone?
And I’m not talking about when your kid loves Peppa Pig for two years straight, and then all of a sudden Peppa is old news and Star Wars is life. However, I have been there, too…more than once. Three times, to be exact. So, not necessarily that kind of phase, but the many stages of life all at once are throwing me for a loop (not including my own middle-aged stage).
Let’s start with my kids. Right here, there is a lot to unpack. I have three children: a thirteen-year-old girl, a nine-year-old boy, and a six-year-old boy. I am in the midst of pre-teen angst: a middle child who still wants to be a kid but wants independence, and the youngest, in kindergarten, who wants to do it all but still wants to sleep in my bed. This doesn’t count my two parents, who overnight seemed to need more care and attention.
I am trying my best to navigate all this new territory as best as I can, but honestly, I wasn’t ready or prepared.
I think what hit me the hardest recently is accepting the fact that my pre-teen daughter is practically a woman, and I am basically looking into a mirror from 30 years ago. I remember feeling exactly the same way she did at her age, and sometimes it really was hard, and I feel for her. It’s even harder for kids now, and I always try to remember that and be there for her, even when she wants to put her AirPods in and tune me out.
My little guy is full of energy, and I am not only mom-tired but teacher-tired, which is a whole different animal. Trying to keep up with a six-year-old at 44 is not always easy, especially with busy schedules and long, cold winter days. I try to take it like a champ when I get knocked out by a light saber more than once a day.
As for my middle guy, well, let’s say he still wants to hug me first thing in the morning when he wakes up, which melts my heart. Cut to an hour later, he’s rolling his eyes at me because I reminded him to put on a jacket before the bus comes. “I know, Mom! You told me five times!” Cue attitude.
This brings me to my dad…my stubborn, Italian father, my fourth child. Recently, my father had triple bypass surgery. It came as a shock to my family when I took him in for what was supposed to be a routine procedure, and the doctor couldn’t do it. What was supposed to be an easy fix turned into finding the best doctor and hospital to take care of my dad’s heart and to do it quickly.
Out of nowhere, I realized my parents were getting older, and I’d have to carve out extra time in my already busy schedule to be available for appointments, follow-ups, and even food shopping.
My dad had his surgery, and luckily, everything went well. But it seemed to age him a bit, almost overnight, and it was really jarring for me. I realized that I was also navigating my own mid-life identity crisis, due in part to my rapidly growing gray hair, my daughter going to high school next year, and definitely being the oldest mom with a kindergartener. Then seeing my dad recovering from such a serious operation really took a toll on me.
It didn’t help that my Nonna, my dad’s mother, had passed away two months earlier. I really just believed she would live forever. When she passed away, I couldn’t process that I was really at the age where grandparents and parents are passing away. It scared me a lot.
So many things were happening at once, and my head was spinning. This was also the first year I was back at work as a head teacher, and I had a classroom to run. It is tough to fit your life into five personal days and three sick days.
