The other day I had a handyman come over and replace the ceiling fan in my daughter’s room. The fan was in good working order, so he was careful with it. He placed it gently in some Styrofoam packing material and it sat in my living room for a day before finding a new home.
We have been planning to replace that fan for months. Over the summer, my girls and I took on a massive redecorating project. I had to pack up my entire home office, including the huge closet of office/craft/sewing/misc stuff and move everything to the living room so the office could be repainted. Once three walls were lavender and one was a dramatically dark blue, my 12 year old could move in and start decorating.
Once her room was empty, it was repainted for my 15 year old daughter, the artsy one. The walls in her new room are deep purple, lime green, bright cerulean blue and … wait for it… black chalkboard. An entire wall available for friends to graffiti to their teenage hearts’ content, and believe me – that is a lot of graffiti.
With the colorful walls and the ironically black bedding, it was clear that the pink ceiling fan with flowers and butterflies was affecting the overall chi in the room.
So the fan went across the street to the young family with the little girls age 5 and 3. My husband dropped it off and there was quite a squeal from the 5 year old. “Mommy! That for my room?”
Honestly, I had no problem with this entire plan until the fan was gone. Something about watching that little girly-ness leaving forever left me a little sad. It is not like the fact that my girls are growing up was a secret. In fact, the evidence is in every corner of my life: homework that involves medieval politics, the miniature Sephora store in my hall bathroom, the bras of every size and color going through the wash each week…
But this weekend I just had a feeling that life is shifting into fast forward.
My oldest will be 16 next month. She will not get a driver’s license on her birthday, but she will soon. In April, my “little one” will be 13. She does not have any interest in boys just yet, but she will soon. Instead of the hiding presents from Santa Claus, we have planned a family trip to New York for Christmas break that includes tickets to Wicked and lots of shopping. Last summer we visited a college out of state (my alma mater), this summer we will visit a few more.
I don’t have any regrets about being a working mom. I have been incredibly lucky to work at home for most of the last 10 years. I get a lot of time with my daughters and I am lucky that they think I am pretty ok to hang out with most of the time. They are interesting people to talk to and I like that we can have deep conversations about life, politics and the economy.
“It’s all good,” I try to remind myself. This is what I have been working towards. But I can’t help it, there are tears in my eyes.
This post was originally published on WorkingMother.com on November 15, 2011.