In a couple of short weeks my oldest will be 18 and I’ll officially be the parent of an “adult”. Maybe it is this pending milestone, or the fall, or Venus in retrograde, or some mystic combination, but I am having a nostalgic and heavy time with this.
As I watch my kids grow and become adults, and truly appreciate them as people and teens, more than as babies and kids; I am also very much grieving the loss of those little people. It’s a strange and complicated emotion to feel proud of who they are becoming and watch them need their parents less and less, yet want to have them be small and dependent and say funny things and learn to navigate the world.
Before I had kids I had a colleague say to me that once you have kids you will realize love, and that you will love them more than your husband or anyone. And truly, she was right. I love those people more than I ever have or ever will love another. When they are babies and you want to devour them whole and squeeze them so tight that they are absorbed into your soul. And they are already in your soul.
But you dislike them too. You never feel so much stress and frustration and “could you just shut up!” as you do with kids. They are the highest pinnacles of joy and the sharpest stabs of frustration.
I had kids knowing full well that you raise them to go away and that the best case scenario is literally that they no longer need you and are self sufficient, well liked, well adjusted adults; who are productive and happy and not traumatized.
There are many things you never grasp until you raise a kid and most specifically, is the concept that you can only do the best you can and hope that it is good. That you never stop being a person too, and having your own needs and wants, but somehow you have to temper those needs and wants with making sure that these little people are somehow left feeling loved and respected and important.
I see these young people being so interesting and fun and different. Yet I also see the mirror they bring to us and I recognize many of my best and worst parts in them. I sometimes have cringe moments when I think of how hard I must be sometimes, as I see my son be like me. But you also see the good. I swear that every likable and sweet thing about my daughter is all the best parts of her father.
Memory is fallible and I have come to realize that they probably don’t remember all the stuff I tried to do and the toddler yoga classes and the parks and the baking and those things. They may remember obscure moments that I no longer do. Sadly, they may remember moments that I was less kind or times they felt let down. I no longer remember hilarious things they said, for the most part, or all the millions of moments that passed as day to day banality. I wish I did! And that I could hold those moments in a jar forever.
I tried to be affectionate and compliment them. But I also tried to make them get that they are not special in the broader sense of the word. I tried to instill empathy and critical thinking. I tried to also make them see that I am a person too and that I deserve to get a chance to go for a run or have my own goals; and my underlying intent with this was for them to grow up and see that they too have value, and that they are not required to be completely self-sacrificing and under respected. I have yet to see if this lesson burrowed in, but I like to hope so. Maybe they will just think their mom was selfish but hopefully they see it as me being my own person while trying to also be a mom. I want them to think of me as a living breathing, person with feelings and opinions and not just as their mom.
One thing that has been hard to let go of is the concept that I have any control over the relationship they have with anyone other than me. I have had to realize that my effort and intentions and connection are all I can control. Their relationship with me is its own thing and not the relationship they have with their dad or other family members, or even each other. Those relationships and efforts and connections are on those other people. I have to be the mother I want to be and build the foundation I want to have. I have to own up to my mistakes and make the phone calls and plan the dates and put in the effort, and live with my own feeling that I did my best (or not) and loved them enough (or not) and truly tried to instill some sense of how I see them and the world (or not). Any other connection or relationship, at this point, is out of my hands.
My favorite quote about children is that “They come through you but not from you, and though they are with you, yet they belong not to you”. I love this and hate this. I love that they will grow and be and fly away and hopefully have a bucket full of love and self esteem. But I hate that they are not mine and that I cannot hold them and protect them, and squeeze them with all of my might, forever.
But another quote I love about kids (from a meme no less): “Parenting Hack: There are no hacks. Everything is hard. These kids don’t listen. This is your life now. Godspeed”. Now that is the truth!
Periscopecake 