DRIVING THOUGHTS

Children grow up, mothers – and their mothering instinct – stay the same. They do not stop worrying if an adult son or daughter is eating enough and on time, or sleeping well, gets home safely after a long drive, recovers from illness or heartbreak.
I’m a mother, and even with four grandchildren, I worry.  It makes me feel still involved with my children’s lives.  (Although children see involvement in their lives as interfering with their decisions). If by chance I go to bed and realize I had not “spoken” through messages to a child, a sense of guilt comes.  I feel guilty that I did not express interest in how their day went.  That sounds strange because I had endeavored to raise children who would be independent. But a mother’s heart does not stop beating when a child gets married, or a grandchild is born.
I am too far away to reminisce how I struggled between career and child rearing. Between covering events and making meal plans. Or how my children managed to live without me in their school activities.  These days, I find more pleasure in observing how my daughters mother their children, and seeing parts of the young me somewhere.
I see myself when a daughter enrolls a child in ballet and dance classes, painting lessons, and piano lessons. They are doing what my mother used to do for me –fill up summer days and weekends with activities that may just uncover a talent.  I am delighted when a daughter brings her son to the park to bike and perhaps demonstrate a streak of riding skill. I used to drive my son to biking events to enjoy the pride of seeing him compete.
I brag with pride about my children’s awards, no matter if they seem to be too common to talk about – a cum laude diploma, a best-in-painting award, a taekwondo victory, a bike race finish, a mountain summit conquered, designing a mass-produced bike. I can go on and on.
I am satisfied when I see a daughter playing the generous big sister to her siblings and nephew and nieces, preparing meals regularly for them, and showering them with gifts. Now my children – without admitting it – are acting their mother roles just like me.
Today, my children consult my “mother’s gut feeling” like I have a crystal ball showing the future. They consult me for various plans, from taking holidays in a new place, building a house, or making an investment. “What do you think, Mom?” – one asks.  And I just feel good that I am still part of their lives.
Being a mother is a most precious blessing.  With or without my children’s permission, I will keep on being a mother for as long as I live.