Folding Laundry~

I have prided myself in raising up children who are independent and can fend for themselves. For quite some time, they have been doing their own laundry. Last night, Zoe pleaded with me to fold hers "one more time". For old time's sake perhaps? I think not. She was tired after cleaning all day and skillfully manipulated me at the dinner table to fold her laundry so that she could crash with Kash and Tati, watch a movie, and eat ice cream. After saying "No" several times, I of course buckled and folded her laundry. What fun it was to fold her clothes. Chuckling, I held up her tiny shorts, thongs, and skimpy T's wondering how in the world did she get her body into such small scraps of cloth?Seriously, I do not know how her booty fits into those shorts. When did she grow up? I am traversing down the motherhood path once again trying to grab hold of the point in time when Max and Zoe stopped being little and became adults. I am failing miserably. It feels as if I have lived several lifetimes in this one. I realized last night as I folded each of her garments that a chapter has ended. Like a scrumptious novel that you do not want to end, I don't want to turn the next page, start the next chapter. I want to linger here, savor every memory I have of Max and Zoe growing up. I want to go back and edit some chapters, ease their suffering, erase my mistakes mothering. But I know life does not permit the re-writing of our sorrows or our children's. For every sorrow there were many more joys and triumphs. And as I acknowledge my sadness, I also acknowledge and embrace my joy in knowing that Max and Zoe have grown into beautiful, kind, thoughtful young adults who are ready to fly on their own. I celebrate their independence, grateful to have had the opportunity to be their "mama bear".