On one hand, my baby is big! That makes me feel old. But I also feel — dare I say it — invigorated.  I have the day to myself! I can organize my house, prepare gourmet suppers, even work overtime if I choose. I can volunteer, develop a talent, spend more time with my husband (indulge me, please).

I am so grateful to never change another diaper. Yet so sad to not have a baby to snuggle, cuddle, or rub noses with.

It’s liberating not to have a little someone need me for every single thing. My baby can pour himself cereal. Even milk. He can entertain himself. On a good day, he lets me doze on the couch. But not being needed also makes me feel… well, unneeded. Unnecessary. Which makes me feel… uneasy.

These days, my mornings run smoothly. The only human I need to dress is me! On especially functional days, like today, I actually have time to…. Oh! I have time to daven! I am now mechuyav to daven every morning. Which is nice, actually.  I just hadn’t realized I’d reached this stage. This stage makes me feel… matronly.

I no longer need to physically feed anyone supper. No more airplanes, bribes, or threats. My kids either eat what I made or figure it out. (Figuring it out usually includes MSG or melted cheese.) If I go with statistics, I might feel slightly superfluous, at least in my attempts at helping them form well-rounded appetites.

I have just a few short years left to do homeworkkkkkkk (sorry, got a little carried away there). No more begging, pleading, chasing, forcing. No more notes or excuses. No more reviewing, testing, signing, correcting. And yet… never thought I’d say this, but… also no more window into my children’s days. No more hearing their hopes, disappointments, teacher obsessions (for better or for worse). No more being involved in their politics, having a finger on the pulse of their scholastic strengths and weaknesses. I think I might even miss listening to them vent. Sometimes.

I can leave the house now without finding a babysitter now. I can go shopping without taking anyone along, without them begging for this or that, without them telling me what everyone else brings for snack. I can be out without getting 16 phone calls every half hour (okay, let’s be honest, that one’s still a few light years away).

And ahhh… bedtime. I tell kids to go up and either they do or they don’t. But it’s not my problem! They can put themselves to sleep. No more wheedling for another drink, whining for another bathroom trip, or bargaining for me to “stay a little longer!” No more falling asleep in their beds, only to wake up at nine to groggily start my night. But then again, there’s nothing like that cozy, intimate feeling that engenders sharing confidences and dreams. There’s no feeling like being wanted by your child, just for your presence.

If I had to summarize all my conflicting emotions, I’d say this: I am so relieved to be done with the daily grind of having little kids… but I also long for the nostalgic parts.

In other words: Bring on the grandchildren!

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 978)