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Do you know what’s funny about being a mom to three kids aged nineteen (19), eighteen (18), and fourteen (14) years old; the things you used to do to make things “all better” just don’t cut it anymore.  The days when all it took was a Matchbox Car for Jack, a Polly Pocket for Grace, and Legos for Elizabeth to make all right with the world; when a kiss on the cheek for a scraped knee, a hug-and-snuggle for a “sad heart” was more than sufficient.  Oh, how I miss those days.

Personally, I have had to learn a new parenting style that, quite frankly, I do not like.  I don’t want to have to ask my kids if they are anxious, or if they know the dangers of drinking and driving or understand what date rape drugs are. I don’t want to lay awake wondering if they are safe walking across campus, or if their anxiety is back, or what they meant by that last text. No, I am not a fan of this new parenting style.  

But then out-of-the-blue, a text from my 20-year-old, “Thank you, Mom, for everything. Just wanted to say that.” and the worries fade away. It is then you realize that you raised an amazing young adult who appreciated all of your worry, the hugs, the kisses, the “prizes”. You find that a new relationship, one consisting of mutual respect and admiration, is forming. And that, my friends, does not suck one bit!!!

– Holly