By the time this column runs, I will be the parent of two high school graduates, and two “kids” who are now technically adults.

Even though G has been 18 for a few months, he didn’t quite feel adult to me until we went to vote together. Although it seemed like a major milestone for me, he was less than impressed with the primary ballot.

Having A return home for the summer has also shaken things up. Since he spent most of the work week in Harrisburg last summer, it didn’t feel like he was entirely home. He was also still relatively stuck in his high school routine of hanging out with friends and playing video games when he wasn’t working.

This summer, however, his internship is remote and will involve a few weekend trips to conferences and meetings.

He has also made a lot more friends who will be spread up and down the East Coast this summer, and he has made many plans that involve hopping in the car and driving somewhere to meet up with people for an activity. One recent event was a movie premiere at a theater near Philadelphia. At midnight. On a Tuesday.

We are all adjusting to this new version of ourselves, some of us more successfully than others. I remember people telling me “little kids, little problems, big kids, big problems.” Considering the “problems” that all of my kids started out with, facing lifesaving surgeries within days of being born, I always took that with a grain of salt. And, nothing will ever prepare you to deal with “dead dad problems.”

But lately, I’ve been thinking more about “adult kids, adult problems” as my new motto. Therein lies the rub. I am becoming more of a spectator in their lives, and much less of an active participant.

I am lucky, and grateful, that as they’ve gotten older, they do come to me to discuss a lot of the things going on in their lives.

On their side, the conversations are less asking for advice, and more outlining plans they’ve already decided to enact. On my side, the answers start less and less with “if I were you,” or “in my opinion,” or “I think you should …”

That response, or rather lack thereof, didn’t come easily. I messed up a few times by interjecting my opinion where it wasn’t wanted. It was actually painful to watch their faces fall, or the doubt creep in when I immediately offered an unsolicited opinion.

I realize we are at a crossroads here, and how I relate to them is going to set our course for the next stage of all our lives. Having been the person who was there for their first steps, first words, first foods, first drive-in movie, and all the other firsts, it’s sometimes hard to listen to more firsts they had without you.

A has been making a concerted effort to explore new types of food and venture out to new places. I have not been invited along. Later this summer, E and G will be traveling overseas without me.

I could have made arrangements to go along, but something told me that it’s time for them to do this on their own.

This also means that I have the opportunity to pursue my own interests again. Unfortunately for me, my kids are really the main interest in my life, and I don’t think that will actually stop any time soon.

G has conveniently provided me with his poultry menagerie that is going to continue to require tending, and he also had the realization that come harvest time for his garden, he will be at school, and it will be up to me to do most of the work.

I have that feeling that this will be the summer that “everything” changes, and I mean that in a good way. Moving forward has not been easy for any of us. It has come with reluctance, resistance, guilt and a whole host of issues, which finally seem to be manageable to some degree by all of us.

Sometimes, it’s hard to reconcile the face in the mirror with being a full-fledged adult, so looking at my children and being able to see adults is another level of something, but oddly, I find myself anticipating it, almost eagerly.

Liz Pinkey’s column appears on Saturdays in the Times News