moving on

Last night, after the kids had baths and brushed teeth, Q and I were cuddled up together on the couch watching some silly show on TV. His head was on a pillow on my chest so I could smell his freshly washed hair, and as we were just there being mom and son, I had the thought: "I'm halfway done with him." He's 9, and in 9 more years, he'll be on his way to college and a legal adult (well - able to vote and join the military but not drink which is a whole 'nother rant). I was lying there and nuzzling his little boy tousled hair thinking that right now, I am his everything. I am the center of his world. He is old enough to be a unique, thinking, intelligent person with wonderful thoughts of his own, and I am still his world. He loves me beyond reason right now, this amazing person. And my job for the next half of my time with him is to make it OK for him to stop. From here on out, I will become less and less of his world. My job is to make sure that I start to disappear. He is supposed to start needing me less and needing others more. The times when I am the first person he wants to share his joys with, and when I am the one he needs and calls for when he is scared - these times are almost done. When he doesn't need me like this anymore, I will know I have done my job well. This job is the most heart wrenching and most wonderful job I have ever known. When he is grown and a man with his own family and life and ambitions, I will be so proud and happy, though a part of me will mourn the loss of the baby/child that orbits me now. But I suspect we are wired such that the bigger part of me will know that the moving on is natural and right and good. It's all OK. Isn't it?