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"&amp;quot;It&amp;#039;s so sad,&amp;quot; a neighbor told me recently. &amp;quot;My kids don&amp;#039;t need me as much anymore.&amp;quot; I thought back to when our kids were little and we had to help them down the playground slide, tie their shoes, wipe their grubby hands before they stuffed them into the Goldfish cracker bag, tie their shoes again, hoist them onto the swing and console them when another kid touched their toy shovel. &amp;quot;I know,&amp;quot; I said. &amp;quot;Isn&amp;#039;t it great?&amp;quot; Mothers aren&amp;#039;t supposed to say this, but I am thrilled that my kids don&amp;#039;t need me so much anymore. I don&amp;#039;t miss the light-up sneaker years and all the constant maintenance that goes with it. I like being able to step into the garage to put the garbage away without an obsessed entourage banging on the door, crying, like my toddlers did. If I wanted that kind of attention, I&amp;#039;d become a rock star. Sure, it was nice when my sons greeted me after their naps as though I had been missing over the Bermuda Triangle. But that kind of love and affection comes with a price \u2013 a price paid in sleep deprived hours and chiropractic co-pays. I no longer have to lug strollers, diaper bags, sippy cups and squirmy kids just to buy underpants at the mall. And isn&amp;#039;t that great? Last night after dinner, my boys put their plates away and did their homework while I read the New York Times. One son reminded me that we needed to buy reeds for his saxophone. The other asked me to iron his Cub Scouts shirt for his meeting today. They still need me. They just don&amp;#039;t need me all the time. Every afternoon, I watch the kindergarten bus stop in front of my house. I see moms try to corral their toddlers while shouting, &amp;quot;Put that down!&amp;quot; and &amp;quot;Not in your mouth!&amp;quot; They look exhausted and frazzled. Needed, but exhausted and frazzled.  Two hours later, my boys come home from school, pick up their baseball mitts and run out into the yard. &amp;quot;Wanna snack?&amp;quot; I offer. &amp;quot;No thanks, Mom!&amp;quot; they shout, and then they go play together \u2013 until they need me. Isn&amp;#039;t it great? "^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
<http://www.goodhousekeeping.com/life/parenting/a1949/good-grief-092007/>