I think I am like a lot of mothers out there; when I dreamt of having children, as a young girl, I thought only of having babies. I played with my baby dolls as though they were real. I even powdered and diapered them. I pretended to feed and burp them. And of course, I nurtured them; I would hold them close and sing lull-a-byes to them.

The funny thing was, I never pretended my dolls would grow up and go to school. I never pretended to visit my child's school to see him/her in a school play or sing in the glee club or play in the big game. Furthermore, I never even dreamed of getting a job, like the girls today. My only dream was getting married and having children.

Well, I'm thirty-seven years old now and all of my dreams have come true. I have a thirteen year old, an eight year old and a five year old. I remember all their births very clearly; the excitement of those moments can never be paralleled by any other experience. When my kids were born; I adored caring for them; it was like second nature to me. There were problems, of course, but nothing I couldn't handle. After all, this is what I'd been preparing for all my young life (I was a mother's helper and had many babysitting jobs between the ages of thirteen and eighteen). I dealt with sickness, lack of sleep and the like and every one of my babies was colic from the ages of two weeks till three months (when it magically disappears). There were problems with potty training, disciplining and the list goes on....as all we mothers well know. But being a wife and mother was all I ever wanted, I was in heaven.

Everything I experienced from birth till around age six, I felt completely confident about; discipline was simple, bonds were tight and mothering was fulfilling. "But times, they are-a changin," my kids don't need my mothering in the same way anymore. They don't need me to rock them when they're sick. They don't need me to dress them or feed them. They can do SO MUCH for themselves. Of course I feel a sense of pride in all their learning and growing, but it also makes me kind of sad. Now instead of needing me to bathe and feed them; I'm the mediator for their arguments and the supporter of their academic achievements. I'm still their playmate, but they play more with each other now.

In September of this year, my baby is going to get on the school bus with his big sister. He'll be in the first grade and I'll have my days to myself for the first time in fourteen years. "Great, good for you," some people say to me and I guess it is, but it's going to take a lot of getting used to. I'll probably get a job, which is a little scary since I don't know what I want to be when I grow up (other than a writer). It's not like I never had a job, but it's been so long!

I don't know where the time has gone, it seems like only yesterday my babies were born. It's funny, but I honestly never thought this far ahead; I feel completely unprepared for this time of my life. I'm concerned about handling being a working mother, but the worst part is letting go of my kids. I guess kids aren't the only ones who get "growing pains." I'm so pathetic, I actually miss changing diapers! but even more I miss carrying my babe on my hip, with the diaper bag over the opposite shoulder, while also holding the hand of my toddler.

Thinking back on those days only proves one thing to me, parenthood is oh so bittersweet. UPDATE: I wrote this back in the year 1999 in an attempt to get an article published in a womens' magazine. It didn't happen, but I kept this article in my portfolio anyway. Since writing this, the parental growing pains continued! Today all three of my children are grown up, the youngest will be twenty-one this August. We've all remained close. Finally my growing pains seem to be over....well, at least until grandmotherhood...(!)