March Inn

Why"March Inn?" March Inn was the name of that magic place where I spent my summers growing up. I have alluded to this place before, and I probably will again. March Inn is no longer standing. The waters of Katrina rendered it unlivable so my children will never know that "March Inn." That makes me sad. In fact it brings me to tears whenever I think about it. I want my children to have their own "March Inn," and I want to capture our lives as they are growing and changing. I invite you to "march inn" to our lives. My hope is that you will catch glimpses of the real world. You will see our creations. You will see our chaos. You will see our affection. You will also see our frustrations, fears, and disappointments. Enjoy your march!

Thursday, September 13, 2012

Growing Up

One of my philosophies on having children is that it is my job to raise them to be functional, independent, productive citizens.  This means letting go a little at a time.  This letting go occurs after {hopefully} helping them acquire the skills needed to be successful at what I am turning them loose to do.  This can be with little things or with big things.  As a mother this can be bittersweet, but it is important.  If I hold on too tightly, problems can manifest and my children can become too needy therefore derailing my goal of making them independent. 
So here's to another first in our house...

Mary Frances and Stephen are walking home from school together ~ without me. 
Remember it wasn't too long ago that Mary Frances wanted to do this by herself.  It is likely that Betsy will probably walk home day one ~ she will have three siblings there to keep her in line!  Thank goodness the kindergartners are dismissed an hour earlier the first week but we won't think about that today. 
Sure in some ways I miss walking to the crosswalk to meet them.  It is my own selfishness that makes me miss this.  I miss visiting with the other mothers as we wait for the bell to ring.  I miss seeing the kindergarten teachers and being able to check in on Stephen's day.  I miss the added steps that I take to get there and back home.  But those things are for me, not them.  I can find ways to satisfy those needs for me.  This isn't really about me.  
I relish that these two are mature, confident, and trustworthy enough to do this themselves.

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