I loved raising little kids. Now that mine are 11 and 15, parenting is much more chill.

• I look back fondly on the time when my kids were little.
• However, now that they're 11 and 15, motherhood has changed.
• I like this version of being a parent, too.

"I just want to hug you forever." As those words spilled from my 3-year-old's mouth, I wanted to stay in that moment for eternity. One day, he'll wake up and realize there's a whole world out there, I thought, and hugging me will be a memory from his childhood. Eight years later, I can still feel that hug.

Every day, Apple rounds up featured photos of my past, throwing me back into the days of diaper changes and nighttime feeds. From tiny feet and chubby legs to park playdates and brotherly snuggles, I imagine a time and place that no longer exists. A world of picnic lunches outdoors, story time at the library, and endless superhero dress-up sessions returns to me in a foggy haze. So long ago — yet so near — I can almost feel his arms squeezing me on that spring afternoon as he said the words that melted my heart in an instant.

I loved their childhood years

And each morning, scrolling through photos of my little boys, a piece of me yearns to go back. For a split second, I want to hold my babies again and be the mother they rely on for their every need. But then I remember the tears, the sleepless nights, the frequent colds, and the fury resulting from a missed nap. And I return to reality.

I adored the sweetness of their unwavering love. Receiving handpicked dandelions and doctoring scrapes and bruises with Band-Aids was magical. Being the person they ran to at preschool pickup made everything else seem trivial. And every night — not long ago — reading a bedtime story and singing our nighttime songs, it felt like then and there was the only place I'd ever want to be.

But something has changed within me. I'm reveling in their newfound independence and savoring regaining mine. Leaving their wondrous early years behind feels right.

I also like this version of motherhood

Now, my boys are 15 and 11, and motherhood has never been so chill. The days of volunteering in their preschool and elementary classrooms are behind me, and I wouldn't go back if I could. My high schooler wakes up, makes his breakfast, and leaves for the bus without me. He completes his schoolwork independently, and his school projects haven't been mine for a few years. The silly elementary schooler who would have done anything for a laugh has become a strong, confident young man, one I am proud to call my own.

My 6th grader — who once wanted to hug me forever — is now following in his older brother's footsteps. His hugs are still as comforting as ever, but they're fewer and farther between. As I help him acclimate to middle school life, he's taking on initiative to complete his assignments without my reminder. I'm helping him organize his schoolwork and find routine in his schedule, but I can see that he's heading toward independence, away from home base, where a hug from me feels like the only place to be.

Last year, I realized my relationship with my older son — who is now much bigger than me — is evolving. We have conversations about life and the atmosphere around us, and he adds meaningful views that I might not have otherwise considered. At restaurants, when the women's restroom is down a long hallway and around the corner, he walks with me and waits outside. The little boy I once protected profusely is now capable of protecting me.

The early years were special, but I'm happy with our current phase of life

Yesterday, my husband and I ran errands while the boys stayed home. We passed parents with strollers, a mom with a diaper bag, and a dad enduring a toddler tantrum. "Do you think people assume we don't have kids?" I asked my husband, jokingly. "They probably see us strolling around without little humans and assume we have no idea what it's like," I teased.

But I knew our faces were likely incapable of hiding it. I'm aware that every time we pushed them on a swing at the park, each morning we packed the diaper bag, hoping we had every item for every possible scenario, and all the melt-downs we navigated in public are written all over our faces forever. We smiled at each other, and without words, we communicated an understanding of everything we saw around us, and how thrilled we both are to be on the other side of parenthood.

Those early years were special, and challenging, and enlightening. No other life experience could have made me the mother and woman I am today. And while I'd love to go back for just a moment to kiss my little boys — the ones who believed a hug from me was everything — I'm content here with my older kids. Having a middle and high schooler is everything I never knew motherhood would be.