Another apron string is cut.

I guess I'm not doing so well at keeping up here, am I?! This recovery from surgery has sucked donkey balls has definitely had it's trials and tribulations; namely the fact that I can't really sit up, which is kinda-sorta needed for typing. I've battled infection; incision ripping (yeah, that was a fun experience); suture removal (and lack of - I still sport a single stitch in my ass crack that will likely remain there until the end of time - BARF! There's nothing more "something", then having the dr work up a sweat as she tries to cut the stitch out, then gets ANOTHER to come in and help, and in the end, they tell you "sorry, we can't get it out". Seriously?!); limited mobility; and that pesky little thing called pain. The expression, "Pain in the ass", truly does have a whole new meaning to me. Someday like when I'm suffering from dementia and/or alzheimers and don't remember any of this. Or when I'm dead I'll look back and actually be glad that I did this, although have I mentioned about how painful it is? Or that I'm sporting a stitch that they can't remove from my ass crack?! That means that they'll dig at it again (and again, and again) when I go in for appointments.

Anyway, my post today is actually not about my surgery and the elusive stitch (which wigs me out and makes my butt-holio pucker just thinking about). It's about me cutting another apron string between my children and myself.

Today my younger children are participating in the school triathlon. That of course means that they need their bikes at school. Easy peasy. I was just going to toss those bikes in the back of the van, drive them there, unload the bikes and kids; then repeat the process at the end of the day. The first hiccup was the fact that I'm not actually driving my own van. It's in for repairs (from the Jerkaloo (which Banshee proudly refers to the hitter of our van as - and yes, that word DID in fact fall from my lips. I'm just thankful that she doesn't repeat the colourful adjective I preceded that word with - PHEW!) that backed into it while we slept that fateful Sunday morning), so I'm driving a brand new 2013 fully loaded Ford Explorer loaner issued to me by insurance. While I LOVE driving this truck (although it IS a Ford...), it terrifies me to be responsible for it, particularly loading ANYTHING other than people (heck, I'm scared to put my kids into it - they're like mini tornadoes waiting to burst into action at any second) into it. Me and Murphy are *thisclose*, so it would be my luck that some little doamajig from one of the bikes would catch and would put a hole in the leather seats, or we would scratch something putting them in and out.

My other half had me pretty well convinced that it would be fine, and I was ready to drive them in, when a little voice asked me, "Can we please ride our bikes to school?". I turned to the angelic face of my youngest offspring as she batted her eyes, and for a split second, I saw my chubby jabba-the-hut baby girl sitting there all clad in her diaper, looking up at me all doe-eyed as she tried desperately to crawl all those years ago and to gain another bit of independence. Her brother jolted me out of my reverie as he started in about riding to school too. While I know it's great exercise, and they have the ability to ride their bikes, and the school isn't that far away, the Momma-bear in me totally went into overdrive. The route to the school crosses 2 busy roadways, and that's cause for some real concern especially since we live on a dead-end street occupied mainly by retirees who drive 10km/hr on a day they're in a hurry), so my kids may not be as street savvy as they should be; not to mention there is a significant hill heading to the school (something that my cyclists aren't necessarily experienced with). So there I was on a Friday morning between preparing their waffles and taking them to school, standing face to face with another moment of letting go. Another step towards independence for my kids. In my mind, I was construing how I was going to let them down easy while spouting off all the potential safety risks, but my heart over-rode my mind and before I knew what was happening, my mouth said, "yes".

YES?! Is today opposite day?! How did that happen? How did I possibly let that little word slip out of my face? In that single second, I shocked myself (and I'm sure my other half as well), and delighted my two youngest as they fist-pumped the air and smiled bigger than I'd ever seen. I'd very hastily cut two apron strings, and granted my kids another huge step towards independence.

And with that, they got themselves ready, armed themselves with their helmets, listened diligently to the rules and last minute instructions, and headed off down the road.

AND... like any sane mother, I shamelessly got in the truck and followed them. In my defense, I AM a Mom, and that trumps everything and rationalizes everything we do, but also, Imp had forgotten his supplies for a school project, and he needed them today.

Like they were taught, they got off their bikes and safely crossed the roads (including the busiest street, which was oddly NOT busy this morning), and while I admit Banshee has a bit to learn about safe driving on areas where there aren't any sidewalks, and about consideration of others (she stopped abruptly in the middle of the path while 3 other people had to swerve to miss her) they did pretty well. About 3/4 of the way there, Banshee noticed that Mom was there - I was sitting on a street along their path. Knowing I was busted, I went off ahead to the school. I praised them when they arrived, and couldn't help but notice the pride and excitement they wore as they dismounted and parked their bikes in the storage area, then disappeared into the school yard. So why then, if they were so successful in their ride to the school was I feeling so melancholy?

Sniff, sniff, I know; it's because they're growing up on me.

Before long, they'll be asking to borrow my car (although that is a very imminent reality with Teen - as she heads off in the coming days to get her G2, which means driving alone). GULP! I'm not ready for this.

Nobody told me that small events like riding bikes to school on their own would cause such emotional moments. This parenting gig is NOT easy ...and honestly, the tough stuff is JUST beginning - it won't be long before I've got one out driving around on her own, and then in a very short time, she'll be off pursuing post-secondary education, and then shortly after that, she'll be out on her own entirely - and that is going to create all sorts of different concerns. And following right along behind that will be Imp and Banshee as they head into these huge life-altering events. It really is true - I don't think we'll EVER stop worrying about our babies - no matter how old they get.