It’s 6:00 a.m., and there’s nothing I can do. 
I have coffee brewing. My first cup, black. Café au lait for my son, if he wants it. But I’m keeping my distance right now. I can feel the knot in my stomach. The sense of helplessness.
He’s slamming doors and yelling at himself. Then he will calm down, figure out a solution, or accept that there isn’t one. And I will sit by with my agita, knowing I cannot help, knowing there’s nothing I can do, knowing that we are past my ability to make everything “better.”
My son is at an age where he is increasingly aware that life isn’t fair, that he can do his best and it isn’t enough, that he must face disappointment just as adults must face it.
At a certain point there’s nothing a parent can do to help. In this instance, I can offer a cup of coffee loaded with sugar, a protein-rich breakfast, but there are no “notes from Mom” as excuses. This is real life, his life, and I can’t fix it.
Perspective and time management
There are plenty of scenarios in which we’re helpless. Accident, illness, injury. This situation is schoolwork, and it isn’t life threatening. But there are consequences and of course, life lessons. The old standbys, like prioritizing sometimes means not getting it all done. Like one misjudgment will produce ripple effects.
And time management is no small skill. Teaching these life skills to our kids, even tougher.
My son has been staying up late into the night, or all night, on a regular basis in the past months. Yesterday, he intended to pull an all-nighter to get an impossible workload finished. His computer is half dead, he’s worn out, and by the time he sat down to proceed, he realized that there weren’t enough hours to complete the tasks at hand. He started, and at some point in the wee hours, fell asleep – fully clothed and lights blazing.
That’s how I found him – and woke him – at 5:45 a.m.
Competitive kids, competitive world
My son is a participant in a competitive program in which students are treated more as though they’re in college than high school. Like most of his friends, he’s swamped. But he did go out this weekend, and theoretically, the time he took to play he could have used to do this work.
But I still want him to be a kid. I don’t want him doing what I do: working 14 hours/day seven days a week. Pushing himself beyond reasonable physical limits. Not listening to his body.
I want him to make his own decisions, even if it means I sit by, holding my breath.
As parents – do we applaud our sons and daughters for knowing when they have to stop, and “be?” Even if it we don’t? Even if it means there are consequences?
Bearing consequences
He’ll struggle through the day on few hours of sleep. He’s feverishly continuing, trying to make more progress before we leave for school. He’s expecting hassles from his teachers, and if his projects are accepted at all – late – they will automatically receive lower grades. There’s nothing more he can do. And all I can do is stay out of his way. And keep silent.
I know what it is to give all you’ve got – whether it’s schoolwork, a job, a relationship – and you cannot change the outcome. I know what it is to have your body simply say “no more.” I know what it is to deal with a highly competitive academic environment, 80-hour work weeks, and impossible deadlines that you try to meet all the same.
He needs to learn to manage all of that. I wish it weren’t the case.
Single Parent Guilt
I’ve been a single parent for years. I’ve seen my sons live through terrible hurts I couldn’t spare them. And I was powerless then, too. It’s a horrible feeling. You do the best you can, pulling words from somewhere – to provide comfort. You hope the words will ease the pain. You hope just being there will make things a little better.
I don’t know what I could do differently; I nonetheless find myself feeling as though I could do better, or more. I live with single parent guilt, still. It is less, but I wonder if it will ever fade entirely.
Right now, I’m backing off, because there’s nothing I can do. Or more specifically, that’s all I can do.
- How do you deal with talking your child through his first hurts and disappointments?
- How do you teach your child to lose gracefully, as well as to win?
- With teens and adult children, can you hold your tongue and allow them their mistakes?
- If you are a single parent of adult children, have you learned to put away your guilt?
- As a parent, can you teach your children healthier habits than you practice yourself?
- Have you cleaned up your own unhealthy habits, in order to be a better model?
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Oh, Wolfie, this must be so hard to witness. Knowing that all you can do is stand back as your son learns a lesson the hard way. There is no easy answer or solution. It is simply that he will accept the consequences, which hopefully won’t be too damaging, and learn to do things a bit better next time. So painful!
Clearly, there’s a bigger issue here about our society (our schools) and the ridiculous expectations they place on students. I think back to my high school years – involved in everything, falling asleep reading my homework, nights of little sleep – and wonder how I did it. The sick thing is that these behaviors are rewarded, with acceptance to prestigious colleges, scholarships, etc. I think there has been some backlash against young kids being too busy, but we need to make more progress on protecting our teens and their waning years of childhood. I am very appreciative that my parents never pushed me to get a part-time job because they wanted me to be a kid – I’ll have the rest of my life to work. And our family didn’t have a lot of money, but we made it work.
My daughter is still very young, so I’m not quite where you are, having to stand at the sidelines and hope for the best when there’s absolutely nothing you can do to help. But I know it’s not that far ahead either, and I hope when the time comes, I can mute the “I told you so” and the “serves you right” voices that sometimes plagued me while I was growing up.
I want to be a role model but it’s quite a cross to bear. I do think about many (if not every) things in terms of how my daughter would view me, which has positively influenced a lot of my actions. I think it’s a good thing that I’m finally making an effort to change certain undesirable behaviors, now that I feel like my daughter’s making me accountable. In a way, she’s making me into the role model she needs. Funny how things work out like that.
That’s a wonderful way to put it, Justine: “She’s making me into the role model she needs.”
And yes, Eva. It’s very hard. Especially because the consequences can turn on minute variations. And the consequences are far-reaching. All I can do is hope for the best.
My kids are younger than yours but we have been working on teaching them how to lose and how to fail. Got to help them learn coping skills because sometimes life will kick you in the teeth and laugh at you.
I think that sometimes all you can do is try to show them that they are loved and valued. Depending upon their age you might be able to provide some real world examples of how that “bad things” don’t necessarily mean the world is going to collapse.
It is hard to watch the kids hurt, but there is no substitute for life experience. Sometimes you can’t do anything but give them a hug.
The one thing that I try to instill in my children is that they have to find a way to go to sleep feeling like they did their best. When the lights go out and you’re alone with your thoughts you need to know that you did what you could. Even if it wasn’t enough.
My kids have been through 9 years of “bad things,” Jack. More than their share. But I remind myself these are hardships, and not tragedies. They have decent coping skills, but as they get older, consequences are much more significant. The proverbial “permanent record.” We all want to do the best for our kids, with as many wins as losses, at the very least, so they have some sense of their own power. It’s a hard balance. And you’re right – sometimes there’s “only” love, however they’ll accept it. Even when it means silence because that’s what they need.
This is a pretty timely entry for me, considering the fiasco that was my 2nd grade daughter’s talent show last week. In short: they screwed up her music and she left the stage mid-act, in tears. It was heartwrenching.
It is so hard to watch her fail, especially if it’s not her fault, but it’s important to let her do so. I know this, and yet it takes every bit of strength I have not to swoop down and rescue her.
It’s easier for me with ASR, because he *is* 16. I have to let go of the reins, and it’s his job to navigate with little to no assistance. And yeah, he messes up. But again, it’s important to do so.
((hugs))
Oh Kitch. That does sound heart-wrenching. How is she doing now? The worst are those things entirely out of their control.
I do not look forward to these days. I think it’s so awesome that you know how and when to offer help, and how and when to step back and let life run its course. I pray to find that balance by the time my kid needs it from me.
I feel bad for your son (and all kids his age) that in order to compete, he must work so hard and so routinely. Our society has come a long way and made some wonderful advances, but this is one I wish we could turn the clocks back on.
Not to sound dismissive, but I’m not that worried about him. I’m confident that you’ve given him the tools to get through this. You’ve shown him every day that no matter how hard it is, you keep going. You may have to reassess and adjust, but the fact that life can be so unfair hasn’t stopped you from getting up every day and giving it everything you have. You’ve taught him these lessons without even trying. They’re there simply because you are who you are. He’ll be okay, and he knows he has you in his corner no matter what.
I’ve just started to hold back when I feel the urge to rush in a fix things. They are old enough to not rely on me to make everything better. You didn’t get your project done? You face the consequences and learn better next time. I don’t need to remind you 20 times about the due date. I hope that if they learn this in middle school it will be that much easier in high school.
“It’s a horrible feeling. You do the best you can, pulling words from somewhere – to provide comfort. You hope the words will ease the pain. You hope just being there will make things a little better.” – I don’t think it’s a gender selected or single parent…I think it’s universal parental guilt in how we deal with feeling helpless when our children hurt. Beautifully written post.
Very good point, Suzicate. It’s a “parent thing.”
BLW – you know you are doing what is needed. What is needed – the stepping back – is now always what we want to do but at times, it is what we must do.
Kids… as a parent you can’t help but worry about the lessons they have to learn (and think back on the difficulty of the lessons). But they’ll learn them.
As to what a parent can do (even through a closed door):
Tell them you love them
Tell them it will be better tomorrow
Tell them to do the best they can
Tell them you’re available to talk when they want to
In no particular order those four things help a parent help a kid prepare for life. In times of stress and tiredness sometimes it’s hard to remember them.
Have fun,
Jim
It tears your heart out to watch your kids learn life lessons. Oh, how we want to rush in and play Captain Salvation when they make poor decisions, or experience life’s injustices. Sometimes all you can do is stand on the sideline, offer a helping hand that can pick them up, dust them off and point them in a new direction…while keeping our mouths shut. Lay the groundwork for a solid moral character and good self-esteem, and they will be come through it with amazing resiliency. And be wiser for the experience.
As a former high school teacher, I indict myself and my peers: why exactly do we create these expectations for our students? Why, even in a competitive program, is the workload so high that a student has to endure many sleepless nights? I know the explanation is that a rigorous high school education prepares kids for college and the work world beyond, but I’d be curious to know how many of us found college in fact much easier than high school. Not only did I have much more time to myself in college (because I pursued far few extracurricular activities and didn’t play three seasons of sports as I was required to in high school), but I found the classroom workload to be less as well. Granted, I got my degree in history, which I know to be a less time-demanding pursuit than something like pre-med. But, still, I am seeing more costs of the hamster wheel we ask our students to run than benefits.
(Sorry, accidentally submit my comment before finishing it.)
Your son is lucky to have you, Big Little Wolf, to provide him with constancy and love. I’m not sure what better gift you could give him now that a “note from Mom” won’t cut it.
Your points are very valid, Kristen. As for what better gift… I just woke him from 4 hours of sleep on the couch, and fed him a steak and baked potato. I guess that’s something. Fuel, to get through another long night ahead.
I know that our children are over-scheduled. I hear you that your days are long. I love the questions that you are raising.
My children don’t really do what I tell them to do; but they do a great job of doing what I do. My daughter (who is your son’s age) was pretty uptight and I kept trying to “talk her down” because I was so concerned about her.
Then I simply began filling my days with little respites for myself. I’d have my girl catch me stringing beads (which I adore) or taking a walk. I was amazed how she seemed (magically!) to relax herself. She’d invite me to make cookies with her and I stopped whatever I was doing because relaxation was the most important thing.
Our house is better now…and I’m even preaching to myself about persistence these days…the pendulum is always swinging, isn’t it?
I think about your “let perfume be a gift to yourself” motto and I want to make moments in my day and week be a gift to myself as well. Whatever I give to myself is abundantly given to my kids as well. Be that wonderful or not so much.
Thanks for making me think about my kiddos in this way.
This is really lovely. Thank you.
Of course, it’s tough living with a pile of hormones in the house. And then it’s tough living with his self-recrimination (or mom-recrimination? That’s what I get) about the work he didn’t finish. But one of the things he has to learn is graceful acceptance of what is and the choice not to force his displeasure on others. Our children – Jekylls and Hydes all of them – act one way with us and another way with everyone else in the world, but seeing that we also require some fine handling is, I think, the final step of maturity. I think he’ll get there.
Jekylls and Hydes. Great way to put it, Linda. It is the age, isn’t it. I received a very sincere apology last evening (for the morning frustration), as I participated in minor tasks into the night, as his assistant. Basically, cutting bits of thread for him, for Project #2 that was not completed the night before. It will get ride to school with us shortly, it will be accepted one day late, but with an automatic grading penalty. All in all, that’s an appropriate lesson on many fronts. And despite everything, the two of us were working side by side at the kitchen table. A team. My grunt work saved him several hours, which meant the ability to then move on to other homework he had to do, and hopefully a few hours of sleep. I imagine the Jekyll and Hyde behavior will continue until this term is out. Normal exams and extra exams are on the horizon, for May. (And then there’s the prom re-ask. Apparently, that’s still on the agenda!
Oddly, I think that he’ll recall, not his frustration, but that you were there to help him — when he truly needed it. I know your life is hard, but try to get a bit more sleep and a little self-indulgence in that overbooked schedule of yours so that you’ll be able to grin at him in ten years and say — aw, it was nothing! But, of course, he’ll know that it wasn’t.
I deal with this by helping my kids put things in perspective. Maybe they aren’t meant to be a neuro-surgeon. Who cares? I also relate stories to them of my failures, and how my life didn’t end because of them. Life goes on. We all get by. He’ll be fine. Though he may end up living his life differently than the pressure cooker school wants him to believe.