Parenting the olders

I had to apologize to my daughter.  Back on Sunday I suggested she figure out a way to do her homework earlier in the weekend so she wouldn’t be so stressed and so she could keep Sundays clear for doing things as a family. Which she always makes time for, she’s great like that.  It’s just that her dad and I learned that Sundays were so much more peaceful in college when we weren’t worrying about our homework or tests, and we wanted to pass along our collective wisdom.  But as we talked she said it felt like I was judging her any time I shared one of my good ideas.

You may not know this about me, but this is when I shut down.  Self preservation takes hold.  In my mind I resolved to not make any other suggestions to her or the older kids. Ever.  I mean, of course it didn’t last, as a mom I still find myself wanting to offer unsolicited advice all the time, but I’m learning quickly that no one wants it.

But what am I needed for then?  What do teens and young adults need moms for?  Yes, I wrote her school a check for fees in the next breath. Dinner possibly.  When she’s ever home.  But is that it?

This happened again last night.  In fact, I turned over and went to sleep, upset with Todd and our conversation, I just bowed out altogether, so mature of me.  We were talking about what our young adults need from us as parents.  His thoughts were actually the exact same as mine:  nothing really.  They don’t need us to check in to see if they’re reading their scriptures or saving their money or eating right.  They may need to bounce some ideas off us as they’re charting their course and making decisions about dating and majors, but honestly, that’s about all.  But I was sad and a little mad because I felt like Todd was insinuating that I butt into their business too much.  And I was embarrassed.  Because I try so hard not to.  I feel like I’m constantly holding back.  I have so much advice I’d love to impart, so many good ideas, so much I’ve learned!  And yet I try to keep most of it to myself.  But I felt like he was telling me I meddle too much.  Which is exactly comical because we’re the least hands-on parents I know of.  I knew he was talking in generalities, but I wondered if I was even a little bit guilty.  A little pride surfaced as I recognized I have been on occasion.

It’s just that I can’t wrap my head around the fact that it’s over.  After all I’ve (we’ve) invested, now we’re on par with any other adult mentors our kids have grown up with.  They don’t seem to need us as parents as much as simply go-to, easy-to-reach counselors for scheduling and financial needs and a place to go for holidays.

I’ve mulled all this over so much the past few years.  I’ve asked everyone I can think of.  I and my friends who are in the same stage all shrug to each other, each of us as baffled as the next.  I’ve wondered when the What to Expect When They’re All Grown Up edition is due to come out, I’m running out of time.

Every year as I get further and further from the starting line, I realize this is what all my older friends have been trying to tell me.  As I become more of the matron at so many lunches these days, and as the kids we used to have playgroup with grow up and get married, I’m seeing how it all comes full circle.  We’ve decided this is why we cry so easily these days.  It’s because we’ve seen life from beginning to end. Todd and I have experienced babies and toddlers and school years fully engaged, close relatives and friends have passed on, we’ve raised a couple of sons to adulthood, we’re catching a glimpse of what the next phase might look like as our friends’ kids are getting married and having kids themselves. We’re seeing firsthand what really matters in life, I feel like we at least get that.  And so of course I want to shout it from the rooftops.

When our kids are worried or wondering, when they’re at a crossroads or wandering, when we can see clearly what might help and when we’re seeing them struggle with things we’ve gone through ourselves, it’s natural to want to offer some input. But I can’t.  Unless they ask.  It’s just something I intuitively know as a parent.  And that’s what Todd was saying last night, but I took offense thinking he was implying that’s what I was doing.

It’s just hard for me to transition out of the only real job I’ve cared about.  To abdicate my favorite role I’ve ever had (even though I still have the title, it feels like emeritus status). It’s hard to see my life’s lessons not benefitting someone else.  Honestly, even though it’s super easy in most ways, this actually might be the hardest stint of all as a parent.  Because now I’m left to watch them use everything we’ve tried to teach them.  And when they struggle I feel like I failed them, I inevitably ask myself why I didn’t teach them better, why didn’t we cover that, why don’t they get it, where was I? But it’s futile to get caught up in that kind of thinking.  I would do better now that I’ve learned some things, but that’s all I had to give at the time I was raising my littles.  They’ll have to figure out the rest on their own.  And we need to let that happen.

So when it comes down to it, as a parent of olders, here’s all I feel to do.

Pray.

Support.

Listen.

And keep ourselves and our marriage and family relationships strong.

But above all, simply love them.  Through it all.  Just let them know without equivocation that our love is always and forever available, nothing they can do can change or diminish it.

That’s it. I can’t think of anything else they want from us or anything we could possibly do that would actually benefit them.  As Todd reminded me, anything more would just push them away from us.  So I’m learning to step back, to take on more of a supportive role, to humbly recognize I’m not needed the way I once was, to know that while I’ll always be a mom, the job description just obviously needs to change a bit as they grow older.