Yea, it's not happening is it? I was feeling a bit stressed about it, then I had one of those days yesterday that puts things into perspective. The idea of sitting down and writing about lamps and furniture just seemed utterly ridiculous.
I recently read a blog post about children getting older and asking questions that make us uncomfortable as parents. If I remember correctly, the author opened up by saying when we think about having children, when we decide the time is right, that we want to have children, it's not children we dream of and wish for, it's babies. We want to have sweet little babies to cuddle and nuzzle, to comfort and protect. We don't envision eye-rolling teens and we most certainly don't envision parenting headstrong adults, who are still our children.
I'm finding it a tough road to navigate, this being the parent of adults. Young adults. I think for me it is further complicated by the fact I have no experience to draw from. By that, I mean the relationship between a parent and an adult child. My mom died when I was 19 and to be honest we never had the typical parent child relationship. I learned more about what not to do from her than what to do as a parent. I met my father when I was 25, so needless to say, that wasn't your typical parent child relationship.
I feel lost at sea at times when it comes to knowing how to do what is right for my babes. My babes, who the rest of the world views as grown-ups. They have their own lives, after all. They are ultimately responsible for the decisions they make. I won't be getting anymore calls from the principle to discuss a poorly thought out decision. I can give them advice, but it is up to them whether or not they chose to take it. I can't ground them, can't take away their video games or phone privileges. I can only pray. I can only make myself available to them, listen when they choose to come to me, and try to gently guide them when I fear they are steering off-course. I can't take the wheel and folks, that's not always easy to accept. They are grown-ups with jobs and cars and bills and all the responsibilities that come with being a grown-up, but they are still my children. And as hard as it was to sit up all night rocking a sick toddler, or to wipe away the tears of a little one who's had their feelings hurt by a bully on the playground. As frustrating as it was to battle over homework and chores, nothing compares to the helpless feeling of still needing to nurture and protect and make everything better, yet knowing it just isn't possible anymore. Your super-hero powers as mom have been stripped away. You can't kiss it and make it better anymore. You can't control who they trust with their heart and you can't kiss away the pain when the ones they choose let them down.
It's the greatest job in the world, but it's also the hardest, and unlike most jobs, it doesn't necessarily get easier with experience.
I'm taking Bayleigh to ballet in a few minutes, if that doesn't make my heart smile, I don't know what will.
