Tag: adult children

Relationships

I’m sorry that I have been delayed with my post this morning. I’ve been constantly interrupted by my own distractions. Ironically, I was incredibly excited to have a totally unscheduled day. Perhaps there is wisdom to having a regular schedule.

I printed this out the other day. I also texted it to my husband. It’s an excellent reminder. We have always declared that it was vitally important to both of us to have genuine, authentic relationships with our adult children. I do not care to have any relationships, with anyone, based on fear, obligation or guilt, for the rest of my life. I’ve noticed that the relationships that we take the most for granted are often the ones with whom we are closest to in life. Some parents seem to have this sense of entitlement of “owning” their children, even after their children have long embarked on becoming adults. Some parents seem to think that they are “owed” a relationship with their children, just because they are their parents. But our children didn’t ask to be born. Once we are all adults, relationships are mutual. Would you choose to be close friends with anyone who was described as above? Would you choose to spend a lot of time with someone described as above? Would you want your children to spend a lot of time with the type of person described above? We are always modelling living to our children, even when we are all adults. What are you modelling to them with the relationships that you accept and expect in your own life? If your adult children have the traits described above, you have the right to limit your interactions with them, as well. Adults have the right to choose what kind of relationships, and how much of a relationship that they would like to have with anyone. When you are in mutually loving and respectful relationships, what you choose to do for, and what you choose to do with each other, is done out of choice, and because of honest love and connection. If you are still financially supporting your adult children, ask yourself why? Are you truly giving unconditional gifts, or are you trying to leverage that support with manipulation and control? Healthy relationships with anyone do not require manipulation and control. In fact, utilizing control and manipulation is the sign of unhealthy relationships. This poem by Kahlil Gibran has always been one of my absolute favorites. It speaks ultimate truth:

And a woman who held a babe against her bosom said, Speak to us of Children.
     And he said:
     Your children are not your children.
     They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.
     They come through you but not from you,
     And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

     You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
     For they have their own thoughts.
     You may house their bodies but not their souls,
     For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
     You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.
     For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
     You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.
     The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.
     Let your bending in the archer’s hand be for gladness;
     For even as He loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also the bow that is stable.

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

Here is the question of the day from 3000 Questions About Me:

995. What are you hypocritical about?

Godfidence

I read a word the other day on a sign that has become a sort of meditative mantra for me lately. The word is “Godfidence“. The word itself sounds powerful and solid and omnipotent, doesn’t it?

The hardest thing about loving your adult children is that you must love them without always loving their choices. And you have no right to circumspect their choices for them, like you could do when they were little. You just can’t pick up their arms and drag them away from trouble, like you did when they were cubs. It was so much easier to be the ferocious mama bear when all of the dangers were “out there” and the cubs quickly fell in line behind you. When your cubs are grown, what is dangerous becomes a bone of contention between you, and everyone just has to fend for their own comfort and safety. That’s when this mama bear has to remember to breathe and stay solid in her “Godfidence.”

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

The Worry Train

When my husband and I were in Italy the last couple of weeks, we did a better job of letting go of our everyday cares and concerns than we probably ever have, in our shared lifetime of over thirty years of loving each other. We called the trip, “a gift to ourselves”, to celebrate raising our family to adulthood. And we took indulging in this gift, quite seriously. Before we even left for our adventure, I implored our grown, adult children to please not contact us with anything other than dire emergencies. I asked them to lean on each other while we were away.

My husband made a gallant effort to leave work at the office, to the delight of both of us. We truly allowed ourselves to get lost in the every moments of adventure and novelty and pure delight. Of course, geographic distance, a busy traveling schedule, plenty of interesting distractions, and a large time difference helped with this ability to let go of our everyday responsibilities, but in our last couple days there, I suggested to my husband that perhaps we could bring some of this wonderful relief of letting go, back to our regular everyday lives. He enthusiastically agreed.

And yet, soon after I got home, I found myself jumping right back on to The Worry Train. Does my son, who is in medical school, seem a tad more stressed than I remember? Is my youngest son on top of everything that he has to get done (including being in a wedding) before he moves into his new apartment and starts his new job next month? Why is my daughter so sick again? Was it terrible that she lived in that old, mildewy dormitory her freshman year? Is my eldest as content with his work situation as he claims? Will my husband be slammed at his work, and have to work late hours to make everything up? Have I caught up on my friends’ issues and concerns, and have I shown enough care? What appointments do I need to set up? How do I immediately lose all of the extra weight I have gained from vacation and beyond? Did our dogs eat enough while we were gone and are they seemingly depressed? . . . . . blah, blah, blah. The Worry Train has a constant soundtrack playing in my mind that never, ever skips a beat. The Worry Train loves to hand me baggage to hold on to, that usually isn’t even mine to carry. And for years and years and years, I have traveled on The Worry Train, almost oblivious to the fact that I have the ability to step off of it, anytime that I want.

I think one of the best things which my recent travel experience gave to me, was the gift of contrast. I was able to clearly see that the world still turns, and the adults whom I care about (including my children, my friends and my loved ones) capably live their own lives, whether I am desperately circling them on The Worry Train, or whether I am capably, and happily, and confidently living my own life adventures. When I deliberately disembark from The Worry Train, and the soothing soundtrack of “All is Well” is playing in the back of my mind, the travel of my own life flows a whole lot easier, and my travel companions also seem much more at ease from my own breezy example.


“Trains changed – conductors never did.” – Harper Lee

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

Marco!

credit: Just Mike, Twitter

Laughing is good. There are a lot of funny people in the world. I saw someone pose the question on Twitter the other day, “Would you rather be smart or be funny?” A lot of people responded that most funny people tend to be quite smart. “Funny” itself is kind of a cute, funny word.

I pick up our youngest child, our daughter, from her university today. After a small bout of homesickness, she came out of her shell and took her first summer session at college by storm. My one son exclaimed that his sister had done more activities this summer at college, than he had done there in all four years. Funny.

Our daughter will be home for a couple of weeks, before she heads back to school for fall session. I am excited and aware. Once a child leaves home they never come back quite the same. And this is not a bad thing. It’s fun to see the facets of your children that are glistening new aspects of themselves, which only occur when they leave the nest and really explore things on their own, with a blossoming adult outlook. This is when your relationship with your children starts to evolve into a mutual, adult relationship, and this is when we parents and children start to explore each other’s personalities, experiences, perspectives on a more level ground. We get to know each other more as “people” versus rigid, hierarchical roles. I honestly enjoy this shift. It’s surprising, interesting, and a growing moment for both of you.

As has been the case with all four of our children, I think that our daughter is most excited to reunite with our dogs. They never disappoint. Dogs never hold back their exuberant feelings of love and excitement.

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

Mildly Interested Parenting

“Instant availability without continuous presence is probably the best role a mother can play.” – Professor Lotte Bailyn

Reflecting on motherhood, the above quote really resonates with me. Our generation has often been accused of “helicopter parenting”, perhaps too many times circling around our children, with a tight and noisy presence that was hard for them to shake. Sometimes I kept my circling pattern too tight. Reflecting back, the times that I was in that tight pattern, it really was more about my fears and worries and trying to keep control, than really about what my children needed.

As my children got older, especially my sons, I noticed an inverse relationship to my rapt attention to them. The more interested and engaged I appeared in their lives and doings, the more they pulled back into themselves and into their shells, like tentative turtles. I found that a mild, nonchalant, bemused state of engagement, often got me better results in really hearing about the intricate details about what was really going on in their lives and minds, then a full-on engagement and uninterrupted enthrallment. Listening to their banter as I washed the dishes or paid some bills, barely glancing at my chatty children, was a much more likely scenario to glean golden gems of insight into my children’s psyches than wide-eyed questioning, face-to-face, in hard back chairs.

There is always that teeny bit of gratitude and relief when one of your adult children calls you from college or a lonely hotel room at a work conference, and in whatever subtle way, is asking for your advice and comfort. “Oh, they still need me,” is the joyous, excited thought that sends a warm glow from your heart to the rest of your body, as you prepare to listen and hear and convey your love. And then, at the same time, you quickly realize that you must try to temper your eagerness, to find a balanced, calm approach that will keep your grown children, open and trusting and connected to you.

“We have to bide our time and look for the moment of weakness when we can sneak back into their lives and they will see us and remember us for the people who love them unconditionally.” – Lisa See, novelist

Let It Be

I’m getting a late start this morning.  It was a busy weekend.  My youngest two children had their Homecoming dance Saturday evening.  The next day, we headed over to our sons’ college town where we got to visit with our eldest two sons and their girlfriends.

I’ve been through the Homecoming “drill” many times now, although this was the first time with my daughter.  Admittedly, it’s a lot harder to find the right dress than asking, “Do your slacks still fit?” to the boys.  She liked her dress until she got to the dance and then she decided that it was all wrong. From what I gather, that is the normal expectation for girls and high school dances.   In the end though, both the “brown-hairs” (our youngest two kids) seemed to have a good time and everything went off without a hitch.

The still new part comes in the next day.  We are still getting used to this new “adult” relationship we now have the “reds” (our two eldest sons).  There is no more “the parents dictating” times and places to meet.  It all is much more a mutual decision now.  Actually, our sons picked a fun Mexican restaurant with an outdoor patio and it was great.  All four kids were talking about their stresses, their classes, and their visions for the future. My middle son is really struggling with his decision to go to medical school or not.  Our eldest son was telling us discussions that he has with his boss and his coworkers and mentions that he’ll be spending the week in Philadelphia for work.  I just sat in awe at times.  When did this happen?  Why does it feel like they went very slowly from energizer bunny boys to snarky, cocky teenagers to all of the sudden, at the flip of a switch, interesting mature adults with a lot of ideas and visions for the future?  And concerns for their parents?  My one son’s girlfriend asked me, “What will you guys do next?”   I think that she meant after lunch, but I felt the need to reassure her that we would travel, and I was loving exploring my writing, and my husband is taking his biking to a whole new level.  Wow.  This is all so strange.

Right now I am sitting with a mixture of pride and relief, but also a feel of having strange empty hands and not quite sure what to do with them.  My mature self knows better than to use those hands to hold on too tightly to young men who have so much to offer themselves and the world as they go on living their lives.  I know that it’s not my place to make decisions for them anymore, but now to be more of the sounding board and comfort zone, a good supporting character, as they grapple with decisions that they must make on their own, for themselves.  I think that maybe I’m supposed to take my hands and place them in prayer position in front of my heart and just be thankful.  Maybe right now is the stage that I just enjoy them and our new relationship status as contemporaries. Mostly, I just need to let it be.  Let it be.

Thank You for Your Patience

It is a very strange feeling questioning yourself when you write a text to your adult child.  There has been this shift in the relationship where “bossy mommy” probably isn’t going to fly anymore.  There is a certain unsaid understanding that when a parent is paying the bills, the scales are tipped to the parents having a certain level of control.  My son is paying his own bills now.  He no longer relies on me for anything.  I’m not supposed to spout my advice unless he asks me for it.  I understand that on a logical level and I want to have a great adult relationship with him and my other children, so a lot of times I have to just sit on my hands and wisely choose not to write a text. When I do write a text to him, I find myself editing it, contemplating it, getting feedback on it, almost as if we were two people in a new relationship.

A college friend once told me that I apologize too much.  She said that instead of saying, “I’m sorry.”  I should say, “Thank you for your patience with my . . . .”  So, yesterday, I just couldn’t help myself.  Bossy Mommy took over the reigns and she felt it was necessary to text her adult son that he should probably get his dry cleaning done for a big business trip that he has coming up.  Ugh.  Now I think there was actually a struggle going on between Bossy Mommy and Mature Detached Mother, so the text came out garbled and ridiculous.  Autocorrect was having a field day.  I almost felt the need to tell him to please not send the text to that segment on Jimmy Kimmel Live where Jimmy reads outrageous texts from parents to their young adult kids. And everyone laughs hysterically.  All that I can say is that the final text to my son from me was, “Thank you for your patience with my need to still parent you.”

And he answered, “I love you, Mom.”