How Can I Be the Parent of a Legal Adult?

Well, it's January 7th and as those who celebrated Epiphany yesterday can attest, the Christmas season is officially over. Sigh.

I cannot believe our baby girl turned 18 years old over the Christmas holiday. Actually on Christmas. If you haven't heard me mention this before, yes, our oldest daughter was born on Christmas Day.

Of course, she was born nine, long days past her due date. And I kept hoping and praying she would arrive on any day but Christmas. But seriously, what was I thinking? With my name being Holly and my hubby's being Chris, on what other day could she have possibly arrived? (Ha, ha! Good one, God!)

But now, 18 years later, she is a legal adult. Freaky!

For the past 13 days, whenever we ask her to do something, she'll often give an impish grin and respond, "I don't have to do that, I'm 18." Very funny. I know she's only teasing, but still. She is a legal adult. How can I have a child old enough to be a legal adult? I'm barely an adult myself!

When my kids were little, I clearly recall people approaching me, strangers who were parents of older children. The strangers would smile at my little angels who were tormenting me during shopping excursions, or throwing tantrums because I'd pushed our errand-running jaunt a little too long. The strangers would always say something like "enjoy them while they're young like this, time goes by so quickly."

Of course, once the stranger had walked away, I'd roll my eyes and shake my head. Quickly? Were they kidding? It felt like it had taken five whole years for my oldest to reach five years old. Einstein said time is relative and I swear it moved a lot slower back then. But somehow it began to speed up, little by little, without me noticing.

Now, instead of late night feedings, I'm keeping my baby girl company while she does late night physics homework. She's applying to colleges and trying to decide what career path she's going to take. What she's going to do with her life. She's not my baby anymore. She's 18.

Over the holidays, we spent some time watching family movies of the kids when they were little.

"You were sooooo CUTE!" I'd coo, tweaking my 15-year-old son's cheek (much to his dismay).

"Yeah, what happened?" hubs would say, and then laugh heartily at his own joke.

But they were so cute. Of course, they're still cute, but when I think back it seems like it wasn't so very long ago that they were these tiny people chirping at each other in little chipmunk-sounding voices--giggling while they played.

Yesterday, I heard them giggling together like the old days. This was because the 18-year-old had deigned to sit down and play an old beloved X-Box game, Monkeyball, with her baby bro. They were giggling hysterically and to hear them made me feel bittersweet. It's at moments like that when I do miss the old days…

But in all honesty, I love the new days as well. Every stage they've entered has brought some amazing bonuses along with it (some negatives too, but let's focus on the bonuses, shall we.) Now, I'm the mom of two teenagers and one of them is an adult. Wow. I guess all I can do is savor those memories of the past, take a deep breath and throw my arms wide in anticipation. Ready to embrace the future: life as the parent of an adult.

…Eventually two adults, but let's not rush things. We'll cross that bridge when we come to it.