That Awkward Stage...It's Coming.

The awkward stage is coming. I can feel it.

I'm not talking about my son's puberty on the horizon...but I'm sure there will be plenty of awkward moments there.

I'm referring to that stage in my life when my roll as "Stay At Home Mom" is redefined.

Redefined into what...I'm not so sure about right now.

You see, for 9 years now I've been the primary caretaker for the boys, while Brian is the primary breadwinner for the household.

We've eased into these roles over the years, and although I desperately miss making my own income, I wouldn't trade these years at home with my boys for any dollar amount.

The thing is... they're getting older.

Payton would be perfectly happy to come home, do his homework (mostly unassisted), grab himself a snack, change into his play clothes, and head out into the neighborhood to play with his friends until dinnertime.

Up until the past month or so, Parker was my 24/7 shadow (unless he was in school for 3 hours, twice a week).

We did everything together, and I did everything for him - including being his primary source of entertainment.

Of course I would take him to the park and he would play with other kids, and we would have play dates, but I would always be with him. Taking him to the park. Walking him to the neighbor's driveway to play. Spending every waking moment with him helping him do something.

But I've noticed over the past couple weeks since he turned 3 that he's gained this new found independence.

He wants to go with Payton to the neighbor's house without me, confidently stating, "I'm going with Payton. You stay here."

He wants to run around the back and front yard playing with all the neighborhood kids who gather in our driveway every afternoon...without me. He'll see me peeking outside at him and say, "What Mom?"

He confidently walked into his preschool class last week and began playing with the dinosaurs that were set out on the miniature tables and said, "Okay, goodbye Mom." As if me standing there talking to his teacher was cramping his style.

Of course he still wants to spend time with me. In fact, I'm fairly sure if I gave him the option he would always choose to come with me rather than go to school.

But I can feel it coming.

This independence.

I can feel my role changing.

Shifting from constant playmate to occasional puzzle-assistant, swing pusher, and bottom wiper.

He will go to school 3 days a week next year.

And then 5 days the following year.

And then he'll start kindergarten.

And then where does that leave me?

A mom who's been out of the workforce for 12 years who excels in holiday decorating, Crock Pot meals, and cleaning house?

I'm glad I have a few years to figure this out.

I'm glad I still have my "babies" who need me to wipe away their tears when they fall off their scooters; And reassure them with a hug when they're having a tough day; And snuggle with them during the last moments they are awake and cover them in prayers.

For today, I'll count my blessings.

Tomorrow has enough worry for itself.