Teenage Wasteland

It's official tomorrow - I will be the parent of two teenagers. My youngest turns 13. Talk about making me feel old! As if that wasn't bad enough, a good friend sent me the public school calendar for next year. Since my daughter goes to a charter school and my son will be graduating in May, I won't have any children adhering to said calendar. I know this must all sound trivial but to me, it's tear-worthy. Kind of like the day, many years ago when I tried to lift my son to put him inside the back of the grocery cart, which I did as an occasional treat until it was too full of groceries. So, there I am standing in the middle of the supermarket and I realize he's gotten too heavy for me to lift him. I started bawling, right there. Poor kid hugged me and showed me that he could just climb into the cart. But I knew - and half the people at Publix knew - I was getting old. I was probably about 33 at the time, which sounds so young looking back from 44. Nowadays my husband and I talk of things like retirement and when the kids are through with college and on their own. If I had my way, they'd live with us forever. I might regret those words one day if that actually came to pass but the idea that my family is going to morph into a smaller version of itself when my son goes to college has me scrambling for reasons why he must stay at home. I know I'll get over this - it's part of life after all. But it's not a part I much care for. I'm a huge proponent of the status quo.