I'm no parenting guru, but as my youngest continues to sprint toward twenty, I have been thinking a lot about my kids and the job I did raising them.
It's pretty safe to say I wasn't a "natural." I was essentially, from the beginning, on my own when it came to the kids... feeding, diapering, dressing, bathing. I took them to day care and picked them up again. In between, I worked a full time job which supplied a good salary and the necessary health benefits for our family. Their evening and bedtime routine was also exclusively up to me. I was as single a parent as I could be in a two-parent household and the majority of the child rearing responsibilities fell squarely on my shoulders.
It was good training, because eventually my first husband and I would split and I would really be going it alone. It was a great comfort having my children with me. And even though the divorce would, as it usually does, wreak financial and emotional havoc in our lives, I hoped and prayed the kids would sail resiliently through.
It didn't necessarily work out that way. We struggled. Life was difficult and the stress became unbearable at times. Still, I wrapped my arms tightly around my kids and did my best to protect and care for them in spite of my own limitations. Most of my parenting was done by trial and error and some of the mistakes I made were real doozies. Then there was a period of five years when my son's adolescence literally took us by the throats, challenging us in ways we never imagined, and spitting us out much much worse for wear. We navigated some very dark waters and learned the true meaning of sink or swim. My son was fifteen and my daughter was twelve when their father died, throwing yet another wrench into the already harsh system of life lessons they were having to learn the hard way. Yet in the end, both my kids survived. They turned out to be lovely beautiful people. People I am so proud of and admire so much.
One of the best things about being a parent is watching your children grow into adulthood. Watching them come into their own, and develop their own personalities and talents. Watching them develop the consciences and values that will guide them through life. When it all goes well, it is the most fulfilling thing ever.
Now that the hard work is done, I am kind of on parental cruise control. The kids still live at home but have graduated into such independent lives, we barely see them. Jordan is working successfully in the music business, recording on the side, and making plans to get his own place soon. Adrian is a full-time college student and holds a part-time job while maintaining a solid four year relationship with her boyfriend. Casa Hice is more like Hotel Hice, but we are all co-existing nicely and life is good.
When Larry and I finally do find ourselves alone, I doubt I will go through the throes of empty nest syndrome because letting go is part of the deal. Learning to shift gears and throw it into reverse is what it's all about. Kind of ironic, isn't it?
When we bring our newborns home from the hospital, they are helpless defenseless little life forces that demand constant care and attention. We live to supply their every need. To hold on tight. And then slowly, over time, they begin the process of separating themselves from us. We go from being their heros to being their greatest embarrassment. We go from guiding their every move and decision to being practically useless in the advice department. Our job descriptions change from being their Alpha and Omegas to their big fat Zetas.
How strange that the process of raising our children to independence is more a lesson they teach us than we teach them. Have you ever noticed that as they are twisting and wrangling to get away from us, we cling ever closer? As they try to assert themselves in the world, we have trouble loosening the leash? It's only when they finally refuse our kiss goodbye and begin their eye-rolling campaign in earnest that we see the fault-line in the landscape of our bond.
I think that's the whole purpose of the teenage years. To put us in our place. To demonstrate that we truly have no power. And to prepare us for the inevitable reversal of our orbits. In all their lack of wisdom, our snotty teens teach us a lot. And they help us let go.
The other day I was having a conversation with my son, and he told me that when I make disapproving comments to him about personal things, he doesn't like it. Well of course you don't, honey. But it's been my job to give you my opinion for so long, that it's kind of an automatic response. I need to remember that, now, my opinion is only good when it's invited. A lesson I still need to study up on.
But all in all, by the time we get here, the view is very very good. I like knowing my kids have come through their trials by fire a little more silver than dross, that they have some real life lessons under their belts, and that when all is said and done, we really like each other lots.
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