These tell tale signs reinforce my belief that the week eaters are everywhere. But there is one garden that dwells in the four walls of my house, encapsulating myself, and my two youngest sons. It has grown over the years and strengthened my resolve to cultivate and nurture…protect and defend. It’s the garden I tend to as a mother. Almost daily, I tell myself how lucky I am to have my boys and recognize and appreciate their childhoods as they are now. At the same time, I find myself guilty of wondering what life will be like when they grow up, already having raised a son, who is now 26.
Somehow those nasty creatures have crept back into my life. One found its way in while I was out for the evening and I began to think about how nice it would be when I no longer need a sitter. Another crept in when I was contemplating summer day care. Yet still another blatantly walked through my front door in the guise of one of my sons, making demands and talking to me in a way that made me re-think my entire philosophy on child rearing. It’s a difficult struggle when you realize that your children, once beautiful and expressive in every way, suddenly become possessed with the desire to be different and independent and anyone but someone like you. And that the only remedy is to allow the week eaters to invade your space and press fast forward past those challenging teen years.