Learning to walk

Avery volunteered to host her class’s French Feast at our house earlier this week.  Which is a two to both of us on the stress scale, totally fine with me.  She also offered to supply a main dish, Boeuf Bourguignon, something she’d of course never made in her life.  Or even tasted.  But she cracks me up; we were out doing errands and I asked if she still needed meet for that night, “Oh yeah!” Thirty dollars and a couple hours later she got to work.  Had no idea what clove-pricked onions were, totally spaced that she needed mushrooms and bacon.  Good grief.  And the wine cork… we tried for a good twenty minutes to get it out without a corkscrew (for the record, a long screw and a hammer work great).  Just comical.  But other than offering a few ideas about how to solve the problems (Call your aunt to get mushrooms, I think we have one package of bacon left in the garage freezer, I’ll go get the hammer.  And the pliers. You go get a longer screw.), I just left her to her own.  I knew she could handle it.  And I was so impressed that she didn’t stress. In fact, ten minutes before the kids were to come I asked if she needed to cook her bacon.  She wasn’t ruffled at all, she was watching a video for a project (that maybe she could’ve done before 4:30 on the last day of a five-day weekend, but whatever) and said since she had the main dish and they were eating in courses, it was fine, she’d get to it.  Again, I left her to it.

As I thought about our afternoon in the kitchen, I couldn’t help but think that’s how it’s been our whole life together.  Even from the beginning.  It seems to me that kids have the same sort of needs throughout their lives, that even the extremes of toddlers and teens maybe aren’t all that different from each other.

I was thinking how parents encourage and aid their littles in early walking endeavors.  I remember with our five, each time we taught a new one to walk, it was more or less the same.  We’d let them hang on to the couch for awhile and eventually coax them into standing in the middle of the room holding onto our fingers.  And then we’d let go and have them balance themselves.  When they were comfortable with that we encouraged them to make steps, to walk incrementally.  Two adults supported this little exercise by acting as book ends.  We would never have dreamed of leaving a toddler alone in the house to figure it out, we wanted to be nearby to watch and to be there just in case she needed reassurance.  And to catch them if things got too out of control.  But we didn’t necessarily hover either.  We just kind of assessed things from a prudent distance.

I can’t help but think of how similar it is even as they get older.  I’ve seen wise parents who know the best way to help their kids be successful in life is to give them freedom to walk. While staying close by.  But not in a helicopter, crazy-mom way.  I’m thinking more emotionally, just in the background, being aware, allowing for independence while not leaving them completely to their own accord and unsupported.

We may have occasionally left a toddler on his own as he was practicing his steps, just as we do with our teens.  But kind of like our kitchen time the other day, I’m so glad I was there.   Not that she couldn’t have handled things without me (since I barely did anything).  But it was nice to just be present, even if was from a room away. I wasn’t trying to coddle or meddle, she didn’t need that.  But it was fun to be able to problem-solve together, to laugh at the absurdities, to be another hand, to be someone she could bounce ideas off of.

I just think it adds to their confidence to know they can count on us.  And that's what I see as the most sad and critical part of teen homelessness.  It's not that they don't have the wherewithal to navigate and solve problems, they've proven that they do.  It's that they are completely alone without a behind the scenes support.  I've always thought that kids can do just about anything if they feel they have that sort of safety net; it's a significant advantage.

Just like our little ones could without us even holding their hands.  But we know from his gleeful smiles that he wants to show you what he can do.  We know from the way his eyes beg for approval that he’s happy you’re there to celebrate his achievement.  We know from the way he melts into your arms that just having you there helps him feel calm, secure, comforted.  Even if you’re just sort of there on the sidelines.  I think teens aren’t that different.  Certainly they could swim or race or figure out their taxes without us.  But I think simply having us available makes them feel supported and gives them confidence.

I loved seeing Avery so competent in the kitchen.  She doesn’t cook much.  I don’t know that she’s ever made a main dish in her life.  The meat completely grossed her out.  She asked me if that was fat.  I gave her her dad’s fillet knife and she just went to work.  I had no idea what she was making or how to make it, so I stood back and did the laundry.  But I wonder if it helped knowing that someone was there.  Just in case.  I wonder if simply having someone in the background reinforced her confidence.  I wonder if it mattered, if it made a difference.  I know even as a grown up it does to me.  I love having a driving companion when I’m heading somewhere new, it’s comforting to have Todd at home while I’m working on a project, I loved it when my mom stopped working for the bank and was more available to me during the days, even though we were hundreds of miles apart.  I think our college son might feel that way too; we love it when he sends us pictures of his life and his fall schedule, when we talk about ideas for dates and summer jobs.  He’s completely on his own, but I think he likes being able to check in every now and then; I think it’s heartening to know we’re accessible and interested in what he’s doing.  For me, having someone around feels reassuring. I think it might feel that way to our kids as well.

I just can’t help but think of how similar these two stages of toddler and teen are.  And others along the way.  Kids want to be independent.  They have the capacity to walk and, by the time they’re toddlers and then young adults, they’ve developed the necessary skills and strength to do just that.  And yet I think it’s important that just because they’re old enough to walk by themselves or stay by themselves that we don’t completely leave them on their own.  It’s a balance with young adults for sure, just as when we were trying to figure it out the first time around.  We knew instinctively that we needed to let go, to unravel their fingers from ours.  We knew they’d fail.  And fall.  And get back up.  That they wouldn’t be permanently injured.  That that part was necessary for learning.  That if we jumped up to save them from pain and seemed overly concerned, they’d start to whimper and worry too.  But if we smiled and laughed and encouraged and brushed their seat, they’d take off again in no time.  I don’t think things have changed that much.  When our teens are learning to walk on their own, I think they sort of want to know we’re not too far away.  They’d never let on and would never say so (just as a toddler—if he could make sense of his thoughts and share them with us—would never admit as much), but I think it boosts their courage and spirits to know that we care enough to just sort of stick around, that even though they’re practically grown ups, we still consider them a top priority.  We may be doing our own thing, I hope we are; but we’re attuned enough to be paying attention to what’s going on.  Even if it’s from a distance.

Just an interesting afternoon as I juxtaposed my sweet almost 17 year-old daughter with the memory of our bald-headed, strong-willed toddler just learning to walk.  She’s still as bold and spirited, but I think it continues to give her confidence to know that we’re still always here for her, not hovering, not in her business, but accessible, just as we were when she was little and taking her first few steps.