I'm sitting on my couch listening to the unmistakable sound of the end of summer and the beginning of fall. In Texas, we don't get the storybook signs of the change of the seasons. There's no robin red breast in spring (they're here all winter), no single brown leaf gently cascading to the ground in autumn (what trees we have stay green), and no biting gust of arctic wind on an otherwise cool, sunny day (our "cold" winds chew rather than bite).

No, here in Texas, it's the muffled voice of the announcer on the high-school stadium's PA system, with the play-by-play action of the football game. Outside it might still be 98 degrees at 8:00 at night, but that sound can only mean one thing - the school year has started and another summer is behind us.

As my kids get older and yet another school year starts, I find myself a blubbering mix of emotion. I'm excited and reluctant. I'm thrilled and melancholy. Relaxed and worried. Confident and unsure.

Sometimes all in the same hour.

I stress about college, their careers, their futures, how little time we have left together, and a bunch of other stuff I'm too young to worry about.

But one thing I'm never torn about? That decision, all those years ago, that changed everything about the years to come. The choice to embrace my kids and remain attached.

Sure, it would have been easier in the short run to let them cry it out, to make them behave out of fear, to force them to "self soothe" and be independent at an early age.

But what would our long run have looked like? Obviously, I have no way of knowing. But I think it would have looked very different.

Here's one way I know our choice to be AP worked: When my kids (now all teenagers) see parents with their children, they notice. They notice when a child's opinion isn't valued, a need isn't met, or a flame isn't fanned. So my hope ... my belief ... is that they will value their own children's opinions, fill their needs, and fan their flames.

The cheer of the crowd outside my window tells me that the home team has made yet another glorious play, and that time is moving on. There are only so many hours to snuggle with your baby, laugh with your toddler, hold your preschooler's hand, stroke your preteen's hair, or share jokes with your high schooler.

So do your best to enjoy the inexpressibly joyous moments of being an AP parent when they come and look past the difficult ones (as they, too, will undoubtedly come). In the long run, it'll all be worth it.