HOW

 "I thought I would miss them when they went off to college, but I realized that the bigger loss came sooner, when they could drive themselves whereever they wanted to go."

It's been summer for the boy child 10 days.

In 10 days, he's eaten one meal here and I'm not sure it was sitting. And it was Mother's Day, so not optional.

Last night he came in from work and having dinner with friends, and as always came and sat on the foot of my bed.

He shared a bit about work, about dinner, about friends.

And was off again to shower and sleep.

A slight touch of home base and then off to fly again.

This week Xman drove me to get my first COVID vaccine. As we rode, I was taken back a few months when touching home base happened most often as I chauffered him here/there.

I read that quote earlier this week in a book and it rendered true for me.

He sleeps here and there are these glimpses of him in the morning over coffee, and at the foot of my bed at night, but he's got one foot out the door.

He's ready to fly.

He's working hard on his GPA, he's talking colleges and dorm life and big dreams.

I've been watching all of you posting pictures of graduation and post high school plans for your birds about to fly.

I've been thinking how I have two, incredibly short or unbearingly long depending on the day, years left with this one.

Two years to soak up the home base moments.

Two years to figure out how you get a lifetime of home base moments.

3 years ago we took a year off the grit and grind of academics and spent a year working on relationships. I gifted Xman, and myself, a year to grow. A year to linger at the park, to walk the aisles of Aldi, to bowl countless games. A year to take a deep breath and figure out how we'd both better navigate anxiety.

A year to work on home base.

I could fill a notebook with parenting regrets, but you won't find that in it.

You see it was in that year that I learned to chose relationship over tasks.

It was in that year that I remembered that WHO he becomes is much less important than HOW he gets there.

The journey is important.

What if the journey is all he gets?

I see glimpses of the HOW in action these days.

I see him as an employee who works harder than all others. Who has a work ethic that's admirable in anyone, but especially in a 16 year old kid.

I see him as a church member who shows up. Who makes the VBS decorations. Who volunteers. Who participates.

I see him as the student who is kind to his teachers. Who smiles at them even when others don't. Who participates in class.

I see him as the brother who refills milk cups and untangles watches from the little one's hair.

We choose to skip the AP classes, to skip the extreme high school academics.

We chose to step away from travel ball and intense sports in favor of playing for fun and character building.

We choose to gift him a balanced life because the journey is important.

I think about these lessons I've learned every time I second guess a decision about Peanut.

Her schedule has very little structure, very little musts in her week.

Each time I consider registering her for some activity because I feel some guilt, I think about the HOW.

Then I remember, the journey is important.

Mama Warriors, it's easy to get caught up in WHO our kids will become. To worry about their future.

To want to put them in all the things, to fill your time with trying to gift them opportunities.

Let's not forget the HOW.

The journey is incredibly beautiful.