I'm NOT scared of you!

Every time one of you throws a fit I say it - I'm not scared of you.

During ever hormonal outburst and from in front of every slammed door I yell out - I'm not scared of you.

Even each time you're coming at me in driveway soccer and we both know you'll probably score on me - I ain't scared of you.

I'm not scared of a little eye roll or a foot stomped on my rules.  You don't make me tremble when you anoint me Meanest Mama Ever.  Not even a little.  Ok, maybe the ball flying at my head gives me pause, but I'm not scared of your athletic ability.

What I don't tell you, though, is this:  you three terrify me.

Like no one else ever has (and many have tried), like nothing else ever could (and we all know how I feel about snakes).  I am scared of you every day.

What if you wake up one day and decide rules and broccoli  just aren't for you anymore, and you decide you want to live with him?

What am I going to do when you realize that I'm just making this up as we're going along and I know no more than you do about raising three girls?

Not to mention the fact that there will come a time when you realize that I'm gravely outnumbered and sadly outclassed.

And, my biggest fear, what the hell am I supposed to do when you leave for "good"?

Every night I update my countdown to nothingness.  I have nine years, eleven and a half days left before Maya graduates high school.  And I'm scared for me.  

That's it.  I'm not afraid of you, but I am petrified for me.  You are the only people on earth I couldn't live without.  But I will.  

Three days are coming that will leave me breathless and empty.  Three days I longed for when you were throwing mashed peaches and diaper pails rendered my house unfit to breathe in.  Three days I thought would bring me full nights of sleep and full days of nothing Disney related.  Three days of completed thoughts and leisurely walks in the grocery store aisles with a basket instead of a cart.

So you don't scare me, my loves.  Knowing I'm working this hard to get you comfortable on your own feet does.  Understanding that nothing will make me more proud or more sad than watching you pack up the room I've rented to you for so long - those moments keep me up at night.  And the idea that I only have nine years, eleven and a half days left?  I'm shaking now just thinking of it.