Sheesh. Sometimes motherhood is like having someone pull your heart out of your chest and throw it ten feet in front of you where a hungry lion is rushing at it, and you're duct-taped to the wall.
It's a very straight-jacketed place to be. Especially as the kidlets get older and do more scary things, all of which are done without the mom. Two weeks ago I had two kids at a leadership camp in the Tetons where they were white-water rafting and repelling down 300-foot cliffs (one of which kids weighs about 8 ounces and is a girl. Who scares easily. But who by all accounts wants to do the camp again. Because she didn't die). At the same time my littlest dude was hanging out with a cousin who came down with hand-foot-and-mouth disease, whilst the college kid was away at school working and having boy problems (mostly on the order of deciding that boys are dorks, no offense.) Worst part? I couldn't go comfort or help anyone because my huz and I were clear across the country in New York.
Thousands of miles separated me from my little offspringies. It was a terribly uneasy feeling. But one they absolutely benefitted from and had to have in order to become adults. And they all did splendidly: little dude did not get the disease, no one fell off a cliff, and boys are kind of okay again.
No. It was I who was falling apart, seeing that heart sitting there defenseless and me unable to do one blessed thing to defend it against the wild-cats of life.
But then, do you know what happened? To my great shock the heart jumped up into the air, an awesome human being formed around it, and that human told the lion to talk to the hand. Without any help from the duct-taped mom. Then the human-child-o'-mine gave me the thumbs up and went back to taking risks and surviving just fine without me.
Sometimes I think my kids are more mature than I am. I'll have to get used to it. Meantime, maybe I'll just go watch The Amazing Spiderman and quit worrying.