My teenage son must have fallen asleep very late, and without actually going to bed. In other words, keeling over in the midst of an assignment.
His door was open this morning, when I went to tap lightly at 7:30am, to wake him. His easel was set up next to his small desk – a self-portrait well in process. Books were scattered everywhere on the floor (as usual), dishes and bowls were stacked on the small table by his bed, and the dirty clothes (everywhere) were at a relative minimum, since I’d been doing laundry the evening before. He must have staggered to the bed at some point, where he was wrapped up tightly in his comforter, his now long and lanky body taking up the full length of the mattress on which he was once a tiny bundle. Yet it was the child’s face peeking out from under the heap of covers.
I haven’t had the pleasure of seeing that – my son, asleep – in a long time. It was lovely.
Parental instincts
Less lovely was the realization that after several long nights and days (school work, tennis matches into the night in weather that is inappropriate, and a nasty head cold), my first instinct was to let him sleep another few hours, or miss school altogether. I know he has another match tonight, and I wanted to cover him in layers of blankets, set orange juice by the bed, and simply say “no” as I would have three or four years ago. But he’s almost 17. Those days are over.
Instead, I tapped again on the open door, heard him stir, and tapped a third time to wake him. He said “shit” and began to move, so I headed to the kitchen to make his lunch, and get on with the morning routine, even as I ran through the entirety of his possible schedules over the next few days: 12 hours before I’d be going to pick him up at the high school after his game, the need for an extra drink with Vitamin C, as much protein as possible in his sandwich, a bit of chocolate for additional sugar before the game or possibly after, as the team would be riding back in a bus from one side of the city to the other, returning to our local high school.
I thought about what I could do to facilitate his evening activities (school work), and the extra heavy sweater I needed to insist he take (he told me he was freezing last night during the matches). There would also be the need for the healthiest possible dinner when he comes home, and therefore I’d search through the freezer for the roast I bought, to defrost during the day. Last night he was not only exhausted and cold (and coughing), he was ravenous, and it was a carefully albeit quickly constructed meal quite late, to fill him up with the right foods.
Parenting on all cylinders, whatever the age
I believe that many of us are “full spectrum parents,” falling into a rhythm of covering as many bases as possible to support our children through their development – physical, emotional, academic, social. That rhythm changes – regularly, as they graduate without fanfare from toddler to little kid, to tween and then to teen. We are constantly running schedules and timeframes through our heads, daily, and adjusting throughout the day as needed. We assess their sleep, their moods, their nutritional requirements (given the days and nights ahead), the pressures and challenges they are facing, when they need to talk, when we need to listen, when we need to talk and be listened to.
The older they get (as they learn to tuck issues behind walls of insecurity, as well as necessary privacy), the more difficult it becomes to discern what they might need from us. But we keep at it.
Any given day with a teenager
This morning I could recognize what my teenager needed to eat, to wear, to do differently than yesterday. The fact of an open door suggested that he fell asleep while doing homework and may not have finished something critical (that was the case). That meant we might be late, that his head cold would be worse, that he would continue to be sick through the upcoming weekend, and these are all ripple effects we’ve been through before.
All of this processed in the passage of less than a minute, triggering a number of menu options and errands (cold medicine) churning through my brain, as well as constraints I would be putting on his activities for the next few days whether he likes it or not. I am anticipating his resistance; it will be unpleasant, but that’s part of parenting. Saying no.
Adults – self-care, well-being, and lack thereof
Then I thought about myself. About many of the other single parents I know – and married parents as well. Women, in particular, have a habit of putting everyone else before themselves: spouse, significant other, aging parents, boss and co-workers, compatriots in volunteer activities. And of course, their children. We do not “full spectrum parent” ourselves. Not even close.
I wonder what my life would be like if there were someone who asked me if I had eaten, or slept, or if I had enough vitamin C-laden foods in the house to combat the head cold, or spinach and red meat for the iron. I am an adult; I wonder why I rarely do these things for myself. 
- Is it really about time at this point? I’m down to one teenager – busy, tiring, but not the craziness of years gone by.
- Is it habit? The habit of a lifetime of full spectrum attentiveness to the health and well-being of others, myself not included?
- Is it fatigue? If I’m going to expend precious energy in the care of someone in this household, it will be my son first, and myself, anything left over?
My conclusion (for myself): habit plays a far greater role than anything else.
What if parents could offer themselves even a small portion of the awareness to their own health and well-being that we provide our children without a second thought? Proper dress, nutrition, insistence on adequate sleep, even a 15-minute walk for fresh air in the lungs and moving the body around the neighborhood? In particular, I thought of the single parents among us – who have no partner to comment on our moodiness, our fatigue, our need for even the occasional measure of self-health focus.
I wonder what that might be like. I wonder if I know how to do that. Or if I could learn.
© D A Wolf
I have managed to, in recent years as my children aged, put myself back on the map. I am not perfect in it, though. I still, on occasions, need a nudge from someone else to do things for me. My mother is great for this as is a particular friend.
If we – whether single parent or not – took better care of ourselves, it is possible our children would realize this priority as they stretch their wings to fly from the nest.
You are absolutely right to say that we don’t do that. At least I don’t. It is a habit, and an ingrained belief in myself that it would be selfish to put my needs at the top of the list. Intellectually I understand all the reasons that it is not, but still I have this emotional and instinctive resistance to doing so.
Ah Nicki. How you managed with six, I don’t know! And Lindsey, sad to say, but I believe that there is something in many women that whispers “selfishness” if we put ourselves on the list. Perhaps a lesson to bring into the raising of our daughters – and in so doing – maybe we would be kinder to ourselves.
What you write about is similar to the notion that we all KNOW what we should do for ourselves, yet we don’t. And at the same time, we are very quick to nag on others (parents, children, friends) that they “really need to be taking better care” of themselves. Oh, no? That’s just me?
What a wonderful mom you are! Your son’s room sounds like my son’s room. As for fatigue – my daughter fell asleep doing homework early this year, and we made her drop a class. That falling asleep problem went away. Sometimes kids take on too much. She also plays a lot of sports and has needed iron supplements. We noticed her energy dropped appreciably a few weeks ago, and wouldn’t you know, she’d run out of supplements and didn’t tell us. So, we got her back on those and she’s running around, full of energy again.
btw – vitamin C helps the body absorb iron. Apparently, drinking milk while taking in iron is a bad thing. (My bio-AP daughter tried explaining. I’ll stick to the Cliff notes summary sentence.)
Very helpful, DM! We’re big milk drinkers, but also very attentive to regular amounts of spinach, and red meat, mixed around veggies, fish, and chicken. But I’ll keep him on the OJ more regularly. (He’s taking chemistry – maybe if we put his chemistry and your daughter’s biology together, we’d come up with an answer as to the right amounts of everything. We just need to keep the delightful room décor apart, though it may be a guy thing… your son is younger, but both my boys have, um, interesting floor coverings in their rooms. And frankly, I’m over it.)
BLW, I so related to this post. I feel like I’m always several measures ahead in my mind, anticipating what the girls will need and making sure that I’m organized enough to ensure that they get them.
But me? Forgeddaboutit. I’m not sure if it’s because I’m exhausted enough looking after them (and hubs) that I don’t make time, or because I think it’s selfish, or because, deep-down, I don’t care enough about myself to do it. I hope it’s not the latter, but it might be.
Wonderful post. Make sure you *do* take care of yourself this weekend, so you don’t catch that cold, okay?
I found myself nodding yes to many of the questions you posed. My children are 15 and 11, and I alone take care of their every need. I find myself exhausted, exhilarated and emotional at varying times. Exhausted because of just everything, exhilarated because I love being their mom and watching them grow and become individuals, and emotional, when like you, I see their faces peak out from bed covers.
Your commenters always leave such thoughtful comments and I particular liked the kitchen witch’s 2nd paragraph. I found myself thinking the same way and I’m really hoping that is not the case.
Do take care of yourself BLW.
Compelling, well-conceived piece. You are right. As parents, we are wired to worry about each and every need of our kids and as a result, we backburner our own. If only we could treat ourselves as creatures, as fallible and vulnerable creatures who need to be coddled and swaddled in care from time to time. If only. So interesting how the focus gradually shifts more and more from self to other the older we get. Does it ever shift back?
I’ve gotten so stupid lately that I don’t like being interrupted when I’m on a trajectory. If I’ve got 5 things to do in a row that are in the same category (let’s say, cleaning) don’t stop me at number 3 and send me off looking for your cleats. I don’t switch gears so well anymore. The brain is atrophying.
And full spectrum parenting of myself? I figure since I’ve been putting a priority on my writing and my exercise for so long I must be doing that. But it doesn’t always feel like I’m on the To Do list. I’m more like the background noise.