watch my kids grow up

My second son was 17 on Saturday. He’s starting his driving lessons shortly. Yikes. I’d better pass my test soon, I can’t have two sons driving before me.

The most remarkable thing about his birthday though is that he came home at a reasonable time and in a reasonable condition. Considering my eldest son put himself in a coma on his 18th birthday I guess I should be more than a little bit jubilant that my youngest son isn’t following in his footsteps.

as my moving day ticks closer I feel very unsettled. Leaving my young adult sons behind is not sitting easy with me. I’m not abandonning them; the eldest is going to help his father update a second home he has and then our son can move in, probably with this girlfriend of two years. My youngest son, 17 in a couple of weeks, is going to live with his dad until he completes his course in a year and then he’s planning to defer a university placement for a year and come and live and work with us. I know I should be happy that they’re both wonderful boys and taught by me. I trust myself, I should trust them. I’ve been grieving this event for nearly 4 years, not knowing when we’d able to do it but knowing it was necessary and coming.

My kids really are my life and I’ve sacrificed a lot for them, but happily so (though I do question myself when I see them rolling their eyes at me). I don’t want my family to disperse but I know that all mums have this empty nest thing to face at some point, it’s just a bit harsh that I’m losing both boys at once. Argh. I don’t like it.

take nothing for granted. My eldest child is 19 my youngest is 3 and I would be happy to see all of them reach adulthood and be content.