Swimmingly

     When my son was 5-years-old, he liked to wear a life jacket around the house.  He'd wear it to play with friends, eat dinner, or to watch television on the couch.
     What was that about?
     When I asked him, he said he just liked it.
     Was he cold?  Did he like the swaddled feeling of security?  Was he afraid of drowning?  From what did he feel he needed saving?
     In my 3:00 a.m. fret-fests, I feared it was me.
     He seemed happy and well adjusted in every other way, but I worried that the life jacket was a symptom of something, or the beginning of something worse.  I watched him closely, and waited.  I read books.  I asked the pediatrician and other mothers if anyone had ever seen this before.  No one had.  It seemed ominous.
     And then one day, without discussion or fanfare, he was done.  He took off the life jacket and lost interest.  Problem solved.
     That was one of the many parenting moments when I wished I'd had a crystal ball.  If only I could have seen into the future, I would have known that it turned out fine.  Hell, I could have bought him some flippers.
     I've always wished for that crystal ball.  There were so many moments raising my sons that if I'd  just known it was going to turn out okay, I could have relaxed.  But I just never knew.
     But now I do.
     This morning was an ordinary morning. I sipped my coffee and read the paper as my two sons got ready for work. It occurred to me that it has been a long time since anyone lost one shoe.  It has been even longer since I had to smell a boy's breath to make sure he brushed his teeth.  If, on a frantic morning in 1998, I could have seen us in the crystal ball on June 25, 2012, I would have wept with relief.
     Of course I'm not finished worrying.  I think that comes part and parcel with the job.  My 91-year-old mother-in-law still frets over her 60ish sons, watching for signs of improvement.
     Mothering is never over. But childhood is.
     And the moment I wanted to see in the crystal ball was this one.