January 10, 2020
By Ekta R. Garg
In the day-to-day efforts of parenting, we often forget that our kids are growing up too. We spend so much time working on schedules, talking to teachers, and coordinating play dates that it becomes easy to miss the little indicators that our kids aren’t little anymore. Of course, sometimes the indicators come by way of a phone call, of a claim of responsibility.
Because my husband had to work during Christmas, we decided to leave for our family vacation a few days before the new year. The start of the holiday break for us, then, was relaxed. The girls slept in, and I took my time to plan and pack for the trip.
On the first Monday of their vacation Thirteen, Eleven, and I drove to their dentist appointment, I suggested to the kids they take out their clothes the next day for our travels. I gave them an idea of how many outfits they needed as well as other essentials, and then the conversation went to a bevy of other topics. We laughed, we joked with one another, they groaned good-naturedly about having to get their teeth cleaned (over Christmas break, no less!), and we went on with our day.
The next day I left the kids at home so I could run errands by myself. These errands took me from one location in town to another. They involved final elements of a Christmas present, a small amount of grocery, a few regular supplies for the house, and some other minor things I’d added to my running list. It was the kind of day that sent my mind in about six different directions all at the same time. Preparing for a trip often does.
As I made my way to the checkout counter in the grocery store, my cell phone rang. I pulled it out of my purse and saw the word “Home” on the caller ID. As I swiped the screen to answer the call, I stopped pushing the cart and stood still. The girls had never called me before while I was on an errand run.
“Hello?” I said.
“Hi, Mamma,” Thirteen said.
Her voice sounded normal, and I know there’s nothing worse than causing alarm in someone over the phone. Especially when there’s nothing to be alarmed about, for either party. I kept my voice light.
“Hey, kiddo,” I said. “What’s up?”
She and Eleven had decided to pull out their clothes for the trip, she said. They wanted to know what kind of weather they should plan for. Did I have any idea what the temperatures in Myrtle Beach would be like?
“Why don’t you check on it?” I suggested.
“She’s saying to check the weather,” Thirteen said, her voice turning away from the phone. “Just pull it up on your iPad.”
“Anything else?” I asked.
“Nope, that’s it.”
“Okay,” I said, maintaining that nonchalant tone. “I’m almost done here at the grocery store. I just have one more stop after this, then I’ll be home and we can have lunch, okay?”
“Okay,” she said cheerfully.
“I love you.”
“Love you too.”
I swiped the screen to end the call, impressed with my teen’s thoughtfulness and, quite frankly, the fact that she remembered at all. In times past, I’ve had to ask the girls several times to perform these types of tasks for me. I’d remind them, nudge them, and, yes, even yell on occasion. In all these years, I truly ever thought about the day when the kids would come to me on their own and say they were ready to fulfill a request and just needed further information to do so.
We’re at the start of a new year and a new decade. In the next 10 years, provided we’re blessed with a life free from major challenges, I’ll go from being a mom of two middle schoolers to a mom of two teens and then of two college students. The girls will be considering careers and may discover love; they might even have their hearts broken a time or two. It’s a little mind boggling to consider when I think about how I was more than halfway through the last decade before even becoming a mother in the first place.
Parents often say it, but it’s true: where does the time go?