I find myself stranded again. The car zipped down the street at noon yesterday, with my elder son behind the wheel. There was a brief exchange over a hastily planned camping trip in the mountains with friends. It’s a considerable drive, I’m sans vehicle for the weekend, but I said yes.
My kid ran errands for me first, filled the tank with gas on his own dime, gave me a kiss goodbye as I was writing, and inhaled a fistful of French bread and ham running out the door as I yelled after him: “I love you, have fun, be safe. CALL me.”
Doesn’t that about cover it, when it comes to parenting teens? When letting go is a thing of the past for the kids, but we’re still processing its effects?
I count my blessings when it comes to both my sons. And I’m impressed with the thoughtfulness of my 18-year old, considering he’s only recently back from two months on his own in Europe. He’s lived away at college for the past year, and he hasn’t had to answer to anyone. The fact that he asks permission to go off for a few days is considerate, and initially, my car wasn’t involved in the equation.
I love you
Doesn’t it all start there – with I love you? From the time we hold them, we guide them one step at a time, figuring it out as we go. We manage the turmoil and uncertainty, the tedium and the dramas, because the parent-child bond is powerful beyond imagining. Our drive to protect and love is, for most of us, absolute.
Have fun
We want our children to engage with life. To know its satisfactions. To explore. We know they need to develop their curiosity, their problem solving skills, their capacity for joy. Doesn’t happiness require practice? Isn’t fun something we want for our kids, and if possible, around activities that will teach them about life?
Be safe
Risk is part of life, but we can’t help but want our children safe – always. The possibility that something would harm a child is the parent’s perpetual terror, at any stage. Sure, we want them to try out body surfing in the ocean, camping in the mountains, or their first road trip. But we want to know they’re safe.
Call me
Of course he didn’t call me from Europe as he wandered from one country to the next, or stayed up all night partying, or spent five days at a music festival in the middle of nowhere. But take my car? Within the range of my radar? I want to know my son has arrived safely, just as I wanted to know he’d landed at the airport a week ago, returning from his trip overseas.
Worry wanes, but. . .
Worry lessens as kids demonstrate their ability to take on responsibility and handle it. But we wouldn’t be parents if we didn’t worry. So we manage it, we keep our mouths shut, we monitor the continued progress of their independence. And sometimes, it slips out: I love you, have fun, be safe, CALL me.
- How well do you accept your kids’ growing independence?
- Are they on their own? Do they stay in touch?
- When they’re home for holidays, do you treat them like adults?
My daughter is just ten but I love watching her spread her wings and fly. She has grown from a child with separation anxiety and a true desire for things never to change… to include moving to Kindergarten in the room next door to her room – to a child who took up microphone (for just the second time in her life) Friday afternoon at a talent show at her theater camp to sing “all that Jazz.” I spent the entire morning sending her good vibes and quite aware that this could be the end of her love to sing as she has never had any voice coaching and didn’t really know what she got herself into. Yet, she said it went well. She learned from the experience and would do it again, lessons learned, if she could. And she is still singing today!!
I love seeing her grow and embrace her life… and I am not going to consider the challenges that await me in her future as it is amazing to watch her fly now – it might not feel so great when guys and other “things” enter her awareness.
How brave of your daughter! (And still singing today? That’s a great sign.) It is very sweet seeing them spread their wings. Watching them struggle, learning the harder lessons – that’s difficult. (And I think not looking too far in the future saves the sanity of single parents.)
Thank you for this post. I love when you say, “letting go is a thing of the past for the kids, but we’re still processing its effects.” My oldest is 13, so we’re just embarking on this portion of the parenting journey, but I can already see that it’s going to be very difficult for me. How do we transition from devoting our lives to our kids to helping them to leave us behind? I’m certain that love is the motivator and the answer to that question, but it is just so hard to let go.
The tween years are a challenge, maybe more so than older teens. Middle school can be such a tough transition for kids, don’t you think? They’re still such babies at 13! (They just don’t realize it – and their bodies are changing faster than their minds and emotions can keep up.)
As for the adult transition, I thought my independence – and theirs – would make this easier. But it’s hard, all the same.
Ack, I can so relate! I walk this line with stepson all the time! I always say, “Have fun, but not too much fun.” I think this drives him nuts.
My wise, old Mum once said “the best way to keep your children is to let them go”.
And she’s absolutely right.
Smother a kid and they’re off at the first opportunity, desperate to escape the maternal clutch.
Let them go with your blessing and they keep coming back.
My daughter is still young, so I don’t have much to say in that respect (other than I do worry a lot, even if she’s only two). But what I experienced from my mom continues to baffle me to this day.
My mom was a full-time working parent and as an only child, I was a latch-key kid who took my first mass transit at age 10, stayed home by myself by that time too, and she let me go off to college in another part of the world at age 19. Yet, when I first came here, and a plane crashed in Georgia, she called to ask if I was OK even when I wasn’t traveling myself (I guess she didn’t realize just how big this country is?), and when I go home to visit her, she stays up until I get home from a night out with friends. She did that this year even when I’m a mom myself and have been on my own since 1994! I don’t understand why she worries the way she does, but I guess with me that far away, she is doing what she can to cope with the helplessness she feels when we are apart.
And you know what? I think I’ll probably end up just like her. Irrational worry and all. Is it in the genes or is that parenting in general? A little of both I suppose.
Thank you for this thoughtful perspective, Justine. Perhaps your mother worried a great deal when you were a child, but chose not to show it.
I also think as we grow older, and experience tragedy and loss, we are more aware that it can come anytime, anywhere. It makes us more attuned to how precious life is, and seemingly “irrationally” fearful. To our kids at least.
OMG, I could write a book on this. As College Grad plans her next prospecting trip to Florida, I’m already in a twist. Even when she’s out at home, I find myself concerned. I try and tell myself that the “child” navigated her way by car to Florida and back without incident…surely she can navigate the streets of a middle Missouri town safely. But that doesn’t seem to come into play in the irrational state of motherhood.
“The irrational state of motherhood.” I love this, Lisa! But honestly? I don’t think it’s irrational at all. Just before my son went camping for the weekend, he rolled his eyes when I said “don’t wander off into caves where crazy hermits live.” He got a good chuckle out of that. Then I added: “I feel as though you’re safer wandering Europe alone than here,” and that, he understood.
I don’t think our fears are irrational. For one thing, we’ve literally spent half our lifetimes caring for our children. It’s like breathing. How could we possibly stop? Secondly, this is a less safe place (depending on where you are) than other parts of the world. I’d say “rational” fears is more like it, much of the time.
Hi BLW,
I don’t comment on your blog very often, although I do visit quite a bit. I really enjoy your posts about your sons because from what I’ve read they are respectful and well-behaved and you have an open relationship with them. I hope I will be able to say that in the case of my own son. He is a tween (12) and growing like a weed. I really get your above comment to Mrs. Mayhem “…their bodies are changing faster than their minds and emotions can keep up.” It’s so true! It’s hard to deal with these changes. Not only for him, but for me, too! He thinks he is so grown up and so responsible, but he can’t even remember to brush his teeth in the morning!
Re: Treating grown children like adults… My in-laws are horrible for this! My husband is an only child and they definitely still treat him like a child when we visit. The worst part is when they tell us what we should be doing as parents. Like if one of the kids is sick, they ask if we gave them medicine, took their fever, etc. I know they mean well, but it is ANNOYING!
Anyway, thanks for letting me vent. I’ve been thinking about my son and our recent struggles a lot lately. I hope we are doing enough as parents so that he grows into a respectful and responsible young man.
Thanks for your kind words, Shannon. My kids have really challenged my capacity to deal with their changes. They’re so so different, and I’ve taken cues from them as to when they were ready for certain responsibilities.
One of the things that helped (and that I’m still doing) with my younger son is asking him to be patient with me, as I come to grips with him changing. Because you’re right – we have to get used to it and that’s a process. Asking for his understanding and help with that seemed to ease some of the difficulties.
As for venting – feel free! (It may be time for a venting day again soon. Everyone needs to let loose at least now and then!)
I wish my 2 boys will grow up to be responsible like your son. I know that we have to let them go for them to become mature enough. They love independence and we should respect that.