FAMILY MATTERS
Kids all grown up in a blink of an eye

By Annette Clifford

Just last week, I was the mother of small children, but I must have blinked. Just last week, I was at the drug store buying diaper-rash ointment, bulbs to extract mucus from noses, pacifiers and soothing teething gels. Now I am at the drugstore on the Clearasil aisle.

I must have blinked, because I used to have a steady date with little kids — sometimes three simultaneously — at the bathtub every night, and now I am steadily hollering through the bathroom door every morning for medium- to large-size kids to get out of the shower so the next one can have a turn.

I must have blinked, because just last week I was needed constantly by relatively helpless children for an unending series of tasks, such as bottom-wiping, shoe-tying, button buttoning, Band-Aid placing, swing pushing and monster-removing.

Now, more and more, I am kept on a retainer basis by kids who "can do it myself, Mom," for intermittent, though often quite intense and sudden tasks, mostly involving chauffeuring, short-order cooking, homework salvaging, back-scratching and cell-phone lending.

I must have blinked, because just last week I was thinking if I could just get them all out of diapers and nursery school, life would be easier and much less expensive. This week, I am thinking, OK, once the braces and the growth spurts are done, life will be easier and less expensive.

I must have blinked, because last week I was driving to Sears in the throes of ecstasy to buy one of each cute little item available in the infant/layette department. Now I am driving to the malls, sports stores and surf clothes emporiums to grudgingly purchase one or two more horribly overpriced items.

I must have blinked, because just last week I was wallpapering with primary colors, hanging Mickey Mouse curtains and buying up cartoon-theme comforters on sale. Now I am putting all of the above in yard sales, peeling little-kid-stuff paint borders off the walls and wondering why they make bunk beds so small.

I must have blinked, because I used to be asked frequently how to microwave a snack, open a drink container, turn on a computer or put batteries in a CD player; now I am being asked frequently to buy more of all of the above.

I must have blinked, because just last week I was being begged to "come play with me," and now I am being begged to drop someone off somewhere and then, like, disappear.

Just last week, I was being begged to go along on field trips, now I am starting to be told, "They don't need you, Mom — they have plenty of chaperones."

I must have blinked, because I used to look forward to their bedtime so I could have some time to myself, and now it seems they are looking forward to my bedtime so they can have some time to themselves.

I must have blinked, because just last week my mother and father seemed like middle-aged people to me, and now I seem like a middle-aged person to me.

I must have blinked, because just last week I was sitting in a tiny chair talking to a kindergarten teacher about number recognition and color words, and now I am in the guidance counselor's office fretting about permanent records and college prep courses.

I must have blinked, because just last week I was worrying about bad handwriting and other fine motor skills, and now I am starting to worry about bad chat rooms and automotive motoring skills.

I must have blinked, because just last week I was asking them to take at least one bite of everything, and now I am asking them to leave a few bites for the rest of us, please.

I must have blinked, because just last week the mailbox was full of birth announcements from friends, and now it's full of graduation announcements from the children of friends.

It's enough to have you blinking back the tears, all this blinking.

Annette Clifford writes for Florida Today. Her column is provided by the Gannett News Service.