Today was Barb's birthday, so we went to her house for dinner. Of course, she cooked for the whole crew, because goodness knows that woman can't sit still! Jeff, Renita, and Diane all came along to celebrate—and much celebrating there was.
A few years back, when I thought about my life, I always assumed that being a mother would be the hardest job in my life. And it has been exhausting—the diapers, discipline, and ever-changing parade of obstacles. But as my children grow, I'm watching them blossom into their own beings. For the moment, that means going to school or beginning to develop their own world view, but I see what's around the corner. Their own social lives, college, and ultimately a move to places that are probably much further than I'd like.
And that's when I realize there's a much harder job coming: Mother-in-Law. It must be the most excruciating thing to raise these babies until they're grown, only to watch them leave and form new families of their own. To hope they've found the right person who will complete them in the way you used to, the person that makes them joyful and whole.
I know that's what children are supposed to do, and that it brings with it much happiness. But it's also got to be incredibly difficult. I hope I can find that magic spot where I can be supportive and involved, but let them live independent lives. I know it's going to be difficult to find that perfect balance. I hope I'm up to the task.
Lately, these thoughts make me think of Barb. How much faith she placed in me on her son's wedding day. How she has supported our union and family. How she adores her grandchildren, but is wise enough to leave the parenting in our hands.
I can't even think of words big enough to thank her for the gift of her son, her acceptance of me, or to tell her that I hold such reverence for the work she does day in and out.
But thank you. Thank you. Thank you. And the very happiest of birthdays.
