It has been my experience that there is no epiphany to accompany motherhood. I did not have, as Oprah would say, an "ah-ha moment." It's just been a slow dawning on me that, no, I probably won't be seeing that movie until it's available on Netflix. And yes, I do have a dependent that I can claim on my taxes. And I just said "foot," then he just said "foot," so I should probably stop saying "fuck" so much. You know, like that.
But we just learned that Dash will come in to a small inheritance from his G.G. that--if we're very careful and Dash keeps his academic aspirations mid-level--could pay for his college. So we started to look around at how to invest that money. And then I had it. The epiphany.
I have always considered myself this child's Mother. The giver of life and comfort and cuddles. I am to love him and feed him and nurture him and read to him and cringe when he falls. You know, Mother. What I didn't really ever consider was that I am also his Parent. Half of the team who will have to teach him to balance a checkbook and cook a meal and wash a load of laundry. The day will come, heaven permitting, that this boy-man will proudly announce that he has been accepted to college (or, you know, trade school. no pressure.) and then start looking around for someone to start waving around checks.
And our job, when that time comes, is to start waving around checks.
Our job, when that time comes, is to be Parents.