’m not sure we have a ton of forethought about our “End Game” when we raise our children. Sure, we all want to raise bright, happy, thoughtful, well-mannered children and when in the throws of motherhood (especially if there’s multiple kids) many of us go into “Full Mom” mode….

Did you eat?

Did you sleep well?

Are you safe?

Many nights I rested my head on my pillow, exhausted, but oddly content they were alive. Motherhood was exhausting and I was working on minimums.

I often look back and vacillate between wishing I could go back and eat their tiny toes and relish those big toothless smiles, to loving my life now, filled with sleep, yoga classes and late nights drinking too much Bourbon. Hot food is just too yummy, and I didn’t have many hot meals during those early years.

I say all this because the “hard” years…. the ones that started at 5:00 am and lasted til I put the kids to sleep and watched a dateline murder show until 11 pm (it was oddly calming) ….are behind me.  I thought having kids aged 23, 21 and 19 meant I could enjoy the fruits of my labor. I could sit back and silently laugh at their unrealistic philosophies of the world, endure their overuse of the word “aesthetic” and patiently wait for a wedding or baby shower to eventually crop up….to just enjoy being a cool grandmom one day.

But apparently there are these middle years I didn’t know about. The “I’m so proud of who you’ve become…. but you’re killing me” years.