Raising Adults.
That was my stated mission as a parent. From the moment my eldest was laid in my arms only moments after his birth, I determined that I would not "raise children," but adults. Even as my babies turned to toddlers and toddlers grew to be children and then adolescents... I continued to work to ensure that they would travel a trajectory toward the adult life that would, one day, be theirs. I avoided baby talk. I read to them -- good books of all sorts. I taught them to cook and do laundry and travel and balance a budget. I worked hard to convey my values and beliefs -- not just in words, but by my daily actions. I supported them and cheered for them and advocated for them, but I also insisted that they fix their own mistakes, take their own consequences, and learn to navigate their world on their own.
And so they grew. Today they are 34 and almost 33. Their lives are lived out across the continent, some 1200 miles away from me -- or maybe it is that my life is lived out across the continent, some 1200 miles away from them. That is likely the more accurate statement. I moved. They didn't.
They have their adult lives. I don't know what I ever envisioned for them, but the lives they live are probably different than I might have imagined. That is, I believe, just to be expected. What they choose, and how they live is not my business. Their lives truly are theirs.
Morningstar wrote today about the personal and emotional pain that comes with seeing your adult children living lives that do not really include "their mother." It is a pain that I recognize. It is a pain that I never saw coming, and I suspect she didn't see it either. It surprises us -- this painful relinquishing of attachments to the children that we bore and nurtured.
For myself, there are two distinct BIG places that ache. The way I feel about these places isn't "nice." I know that. If you do not want to listen to me whine and moan and say snarky and nasty things, then it would be good to just quit reading now. If however, you are interested in the way it feels to be moving into the latter part of one's life, and dealing with ambivalence regarding the lives of your grown children, then read on...
The one difficult emotional place has to do with my grandson; my son's little one. He is now sixteen months old, growing well and happy. I see him a couple of times a year. The grandmother that he knows is my daughter-in-law's mother. She babysits. A lot. She makes Halloween costumes. She has significant financial wherewithal to gift them with all sorts of "stuff." I think she is as nutty as a fruitcake. The birth of this little boy put my own life choice into stark relief. Although I'd moved away from my kids with full knowledge, they were adults and our relationship was already formed. I knew, intellectually, that the fact of distance would change our relationship in big and small ways, but I also knew our shared history -- so I was confident that "we" would go on. How did I miss the possibility that, one day, there would be grandchildren? Duh! Whatever, I have come to some sort of uneasy terms with the reality and fact that Xander will grow up knowing his maternal grandmother, and that I will be the one who sends presents and cards and makes phone calls from some faraway place that he's never seen.
Then, there is my daughter -- my beautiful, bright, mentally ill daughter... She has just entered court-ordered rehab, and will be effectively out of touch for the next month. When she completes that, I imagine she will begin again to try and construct some sort of life out of the mess of drug and alcohol addictions that continually plague her. I love her, dearly, and my heart aches for her struggles. I've known for years that there was very little I could do for her -- that she would have to find her own way. I've worried for her for more years than I can count. One of the great joys of the cyber age, is that it is so much easier to stay in touch, and, like so many others, she and I follow one another on Facebook. Sometimes, though, Facebook shows me things I'd rather not know. She is "friends" with the new wife of my former husband -- her father. It is completely reasonable. I don't miss him, and I don't mind that he's remarried. Good for him -- go and be happy. What I never anticipated, however, is that the "new wife" would, by default, fall into a "mother" role with MY children. The "new wife" gushes on and on about how much she LOVES my daughter, how she is pulling for her, how she wants to HELP her. And it just makes me crazy! Crazy! Arrrrrghhhhh!
So. There. The things that sneak up on a person and create unexpected feelings. Raising adults! Blech!
swan
I had the same attitude of raising adults. Like you, my second grandson is named Xander. They live in one part of the country, I live in another. We both moved. My daughter-in-law was convinced I didn't want her to marry my son and so much of the early years of my other grandson's life, they visited her mom but not me. Recently (the last two years) they've been a lot more communicative and have not been making the trip home to mom. They are now in the midst of a move to the east coast and I really think I'll get them to visit as they are much closer to reasonable airlines.
ReplyDeleteMy daughter lives in a different part of the country. She, too, has struggled with mental illness. She (and I) have been blessed that she has a supportive and loving husband who is able to see when she starts to decompensate and get her on the meds she needs. I'm concerned, though, that she'll slide into serious depression as she has recently been laid off.
In my work, I've seen many people achieve and maintain sobriety, even when challenged by mental illness. You and your children will be in my thoughts and prayers.
Lyn