It's not that I don't love my children. I do. Passionately. And it's not that I don't enjoy having my teenager around during the long stretch of summer break. I like to see his shining face (when he deigns to come out of the cocoon of his room...). But for the last several summers, there have been no day trips, travels, or excursions to break the monotony of daily routine. Times have changed and money is tight. The marriage is on the rocks. Plus, the kids have grown.
When they were little, I could announce an outing and bundle us into the car in spite of their protests. And we'd eventually have a good time - seeing and doing new things, having something to talk about later, together. For many, many years, my kids were my daily company. Though I'm fortunate to have been a stay-at-home mom (with part-time work done from home), there's also been a price to pay in social isolation.
These days, I am lucky to get the teenager over to a Mexican restaurant for lunch. (However, my oldest is in college, and has become somewhat more companionable again - or rather, conversable - and being a student, appreciates the value of a free meal.) How odd it is to have enjoyed spending time with the children all these years, liking them and appreciating them as interesting people, and to now be just one of the rather irrelevant grown-ups who litter their far more interesting worlds.
Of course, this is as it should be. It's part of normal human development, the maturation process and all that. I know this. I accept it. I want them to be immersed in life, in friends, challenges, even occasional frustration and heartbreak. However, nothing really prepares the parents for the adolescent loosening of family ties.
Or is everyone else dealing with this just fine? Perhaps - and it's not inconceivable - perhaps I am the only mother on the planet who feels a sense of longing for days of the little ones, when excitement and wonder could be easily invoked and shared? A time when I occupied a more central place in the children's lives (and wished they'd leave me alone for a minute so I could talk to an adult on the phone)?.
So summer, without the routine of school, brings these feelings of isolation and loss into sharp relief. There's nothing to look forward to - at least, not with the kids. I propose excursions and they are turned down. "I don't feel like it." "Not today." Burritos (eaten quickly) have taken the place of a trip to the zoo or a museum. And I feel sad. And I also know it's as it should be.
So, welcome school with its bustle and frustration, arguments over homework, and worries over college. At least I know I have a part to play, and can be of some use, for another couple of years at least.