It is All Hallow's Eve. It is dark, and cold, and I am home alone....without the boys, even without trick-or-treaters. Just me and the guinea pig. And thank goodness for Furona G. Pig, running laps around her cage when I gave her a fresh salad. Because as of tonight, we have crossed a threshold. The boys are no longer interested in dressing up or going out on Halloween. Braeden did call a few minutes ago to ask if he could come hand out candy to the kids in my neighborhood. But it was already 7:00pm, it is his daddy's night and most of our trick-or-treaters had already come and gone. I asked him if he was sad that he hadn't gone out tonight and he said, "yes ma'am." I said, "I know....me too."

I remember the hectic rush of Jackson's first Halloween. He was almost 9 months old and he was a "Scaredy Bat." It was a black costume with attached wings, a purple belly and giant bat ears that were lined in purple and tied under his chubby chin. I remember that his dad was wondering why we needed to put on his costume and take him out, sniffling, into the cold, when he was "not going to know the difference."

First, because he does know the difference. He knows it every year when I take out the Halloween decorations and sit out the boys' photos. Jackson has one more picture than Braeden has, and that was the year he was "Scaredy Bat." And, because even way back then, I knew that tonight would come.

Since the first day I became a Mom I have felt like the crocodile from Peter Pan who has the clock ticking in his stomach. I am blessed, and cursed, with the awareness that every moment we have with our children is precious and that the moment just ahead is going to be dramatically different from the moment that just occurred. Make no mistake, I don't always behave in a way that honors the preciousness of our time together. Sometimes I mock the fates by the way I react and the things I say to them. And then I apologize and feel guilty and go to bed hoping that I will be given the chance to get up and try to do better the next day.

But I am smart enough to know that for every 20 hour day I put in now washing PE uniforms and checking algebra equations and worrying about runny noses (still), there will be days when 20 minutes of their time and attention will be a miraculous gift and I would welcome the opportunity to cook and clean for them.

Granted, for every phase we move through, our relationships with our children can become deeper and more rewarding. The conversations we have on a good day now are certainly more enriching, and entertaining, than the ones we had five years ago. At this point in life when they say "thank you" or " I love you, Mom", it is exponentially more meaningful to me because we have been together long enough to know how incredibly hard it is to be kind and thoughtful to each other.

But I am still sad. Because their independent lives are getting bigger and bigger while their dependence on me is getting smaller and smaller. Which means their dad and I must be doing okay, because that is exactly how it is intended to be. It's just that I am so much more in love with them than they are with  me, because their focus is the life that lies ahead of them. They are so eager to be more grown up and I am trying desperately to resist the urge to stand in their way. First it was Santa Claus and losing teeth and worrying about their hairstyles, and now it is Halloween and trick-or-treating. All I know for sure it that the days are very long, but the months and years are flying by.

So tonight, in the cold and the dark, I say, "Goodbye Scaredy Bat. Goodbye Jack O'Lantern onesie that Braeden wore at 1 month, 1 day on his first Halloween. I miss you. But I am grateful for the chance to have known you." Besides, "It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown," just started.....and even the passage of time can't take that away from me!