On motherhood and military dreams.

Mother’s Day quietly came and went last month, with our family venturing out to the coast in search of wild horses. After five hours in traffic on a road trip that should have taken two, we meandered along the beach at Assateague Island, enjoyed a picnic dinner, and spotted one horse along the roadside as we were leaving the area to head home. Despite the standstill Bay Bridge traffic, it was absolutely worth the trip with my favorite people (and dog) in the world.

But lately, my mind has been fixed on my own three wild things with whom I am lucky enough to spend my days. I have been acutely and painfully aware of how fast time is slipping by, how quickly our kids are growing up, and how helpless I am to hinder it in any way (despite all of my best efforts).

Our oldest has wanted to be a pilot for as long as I can remember, but lately his path has become more tangible, more formulated. His goal is to achieve his pilot’s license as a teenager and attend the U.S. Air Force Academy after high school graduation. From there, he hopes to become a commercial or private pilot after his service in the Air Force.

He recently joined the local Civil Air Patrol squadron in Annapolis and received his first promotion to Cadet Airman last week. I stood beside him in my workout clothes, totally unprepared to pin his achievement pin onto his lapel as pictures were snapped by higher ranking officials whose titles I struggle to keep straight. I fought back tears, trying to play it cool along with the rest of the parents in the room, but it was a tender moment as a mom. I was bubbling over with pride for my dimple-cheeked, freckle-faced firstborn, wishing I could pin myself to his uniform and stay with him forever.

I knew this day would come where our children would begin The Great Tearing Away into adolescence, discovering their independence and floating into their own personhood. I’ve prepared myself for it for years, determined not to be a helicopter parent incapable of staying grounded. I’ve fought to keep my own identity as a woman, not just as a stay-at-home mom of three kids, so that when the nest is empty, I won’t feel lost.

But a few weeks ago, when Liam took his seat in the cockpit of a Cessna Skyhawk to ascend into the sky during his first introductory flight, he smiled at me with those deep dimples. In that moment, I not only saw my pre-teen Liam, but also my tiny baby forming his first smile in his sleep, my one-year-old running laps in his crib with that mischievous grin; my preschooler, flashing that same winning smile at me as he’d hand me a fistful of flowering weeds from the yard. I saw my baby, my child, my young man, and my future adult son all in one joy-filled glance, and it messed me up beyond repair. Be cool, Mom. Be cool. I muttered to myself, wishing suddenly that he was back safely in my womb but feigning nonchalance in front of his instructor while my heart broke into a billion pieces and floated off into the sky in the shadow of a Cessna.

The Air Force Academy is ultra competitive, so I’ve turned up the heat at home to prepare him as a serious, well-rounded candidate. We’ve set goals for his academics, extracurriculars, physical fitness, and character development. We’ve made a schedule for the summer and a plan for middle and high school. We’ve set aside time to master advanced math concepts. We run timed drills around the campground, eagerly shaving every second possible off of his 6:54 mile time. (I can’t keep up anymore, so this former cross country runner has turned into a coach.) We count out push-ups on the porch and hold each other’s feet while we do sit-ups.

I’m slowly watching my charismatic, energetic son transform into a responsible, chivalrous, respectful young man, even as his voice cracks and his dad and I exchange secret knowing glances while I try to keep a straight face. He gives up his seat for his sister without hesitating. He corrects my driving because his CAP instructor said the fastest a driver should go is the speed limit (cue all the eye rolls), and he picks up trash around the campground “because volunteerism is his core value.” Who even IS this kid??

One of the benefits of full-time RVing is the built-in community of neighbors and the friendships we make along the way. We will watch our neighbor (and weekend cornhole competitor) Chris retire from the U.S. Air Force next month after 30 years of dedicated service. He has shown Liam how to shine his boots “the old-school way,” and gave him his own shoe shining kit, along with his personal Air Force patch that he wore on his uniform. He taught Riley the proper way to salute his brother, and he frequently stops by our site to offer nuggets of wisdom to Liam, who clings to every word as if it’s dripping with gold. Liam also rides bikes on Tuesdays with another retired Air Force officer and updates him on his CAP progress, while the nurse on the corner smiles empathetically at me every time Liam runs a lap by her campsite.

At the same time, I’m watching the kids wrestle through some growing pains in their relationships with each other. Riley, always and forever Liam’s wingman, is figuring out how to support Liam even when, for the first time since they were born, there’s some tension in their age difference. Riley seems a little more like the little brother, tagging along when we drop Liam off for CAP, while Liam is stretching out of his comfort zone as the usual leader to fit in with the older, more mature crowd. It’s a first for all of us, and it’s a challenge to help them navigate the healthy—though somewhat painful—changes in their relationship as Liam grows into a teenager, more serious about his future. CAP is a great opportunity for Liam to be mentored by older boys while still remaining close to his younger siblings at home. Riley is excited to join his brother as a cadet when he turns 12 as well.

And bless it, Eva is still just here for the snacks. My girl, sweet and spicy and super generous with hugs and kisses. She’s full of spunk and keeps us laughing with her spectacular sense of humor.

I’m excited for this phase of motherhood. I really am. We are really in the sweet spot, where our children are increasingly capable and self-sufficient, pursuing their own interests and still enthusiastically sharing their discoveries with us. I absolutely love watching them flourish and am their biggest cheerleader as they learn to fly (quite literally). But this phase requires more of me physically, mentally, spiritually, and emotionally, whether it’s praying for wisdom in mediating sibling conflict or pushing myself in PT right alongside Liam (I can’t have him in better shape than me when we hike the Pacific Crest Trail together) or keeping myself together when one of them pulls away ever so slightly toward their own independence. Mothering pre-teens demands a leveling up, and I’m here for it, even if it’s with fear and trembling.