I was all over the "ages and stages" thing when my sons were young. I read voraciously about growth and development, what to expect at various ages, how to get my own expectations of their behavior in alignment with their social and cognitive development. I tried at all times to anticipate, understand, to guide and to encourage all manner of expression and development. I was a child development fanatic. Mostly I think this had to do with how insecure and inexperienced I was; I knew I needed some training to do this job well. I am also a 'study nut'. I love reading and taking classes -- especially when the topic has practical applications. Being a studious parent is like taking the theory class and immediately applying that learning in the lab. Sometimes the lab gets messy.
But I am realizing that my studies about human ages and stages sort of ended once we all navigated college graduation and the rude awakening adjustments that went along with them finding their way to gainful employment, mature relationships, and independence from Mom and Dad. I forgot that adults go through stages too, even though I am self-aware enough to know that certain milestones bring up some surprising emotions.
Marriage, children, empty nesting, deaths of loved ones are all life-altering. Retirement, downsizing a home, children's marriages and grandchildren...more events that rock the status quo. But I had seen these all as "things to deal with", both the good and the challenging; sort of events on the surface of life, distinct from one another and once navigated, some altered sense of "normal" would return. With the initial "off to college" empty nest, I thought I'd done my "letting go", but I realize now it was just navigating an event, not really altering my sense of self.
In a conversation with Son-Two yesterday, however, I realized I am in a full blown "stage of development" that will enable me to grow into a woman who has a different world view; a different behavior pattern; a new way of thinking and being beyond the immediacy of a life event.
Two major family events are happening within three weeks -- the birth of Son-One's first child and Son-Two moving out of our home.
I realize I am struggling with being the mother of adult children. We all get along great and I'm not feeling stifled, but I'm very, very aware of walking the razor's edge of being too involved and not involved enough.
Son-One and Beautiful DIL are very independent people who rarely ask for help and don't make a habit of informal, spontaneous contact. They are open and loving when we are together and we all have a great time, yet I don't just stop by their home at the drop of a hat (even though I have a fantasy of doing so) and they rarely come to our home spontaneously either. I don't offer up the plethora of advice I could when I see them struggling or making decisions I know might be better made in a different direction. I know they have to find their own way and in fact, their way may work great for them, even if different from my way. I wouldn't want them to resent me and any "I know best" proclamations, but I also don't want them to wonder why I didn't help them or warn them about this or that. The birth of their new baby solidifies their independence -- and also makes me want to move in with them.
Son-Two has been living with us for awhile to get his financial footing, and now is moving out in two weeks to a shared house about 20 miles away from us. I'm thrilled for him and sad for me. He is a joy to have as a "roommate" -- considerate, fun, conversational, helpful. He's actually quite open to my natural inclinations to offer advice and guidance, and seems to take it in without resentment or feelings of judgement. He often ignores me, of course. Yesterday I was getting rather far along in my "tips for living with a new roommate" soliloquy when I realized I was talking to him the same way I did when he went off to college and not as he is now, a grown and independent young man who has an extrovert's social skills that outstrip my own.
I stopped mid-sentence and burst into tears. I realized at that moment that I am just unsure how to interact with my grown sons. Like a "mommy"? A friend? Hands on or hands off? Speak up or stay quiet? The impulse comes from a place of deep love and caring...of wanting them and the people they love to be happy and never have to suffer. But does it also come from a place of controlling? Of not wanting ME to feel the pain of their pain? Is my intervention about them or about me?
This is where a new stage of introspection comes in. I learned during the "mothering" stage of my life how to set my own desires aside in service to raising my children. I was no pathetic, self-pitying mom, but NO ONE raises children without giving up a bit of themselves. It is a selfless act of love, when done with one's whole heart. Now I have to learn once and for all how to take back all the parts of myself I gave away. My love for them will never fade, but it's time to rewrite my "Mom" job description. It has far fewer "primary responsibilities" and is much more an "on-call" position than a full-time profession.
Finding the "sweet spot"where love and connection reside beside separation and independence is the work ahead of me. I'm sure it will include a lot of tears, a lot of mistakes, a lot of humor, and a lot of learning. When I explained all this to Son-Two yesterday, my tears flowed freely as I felt deeply what this change will mean to me. Then I had to laugh when Son-Two asked, "Mom, how long do you think this stage will last?" Good question! It may be as challenging for those around me as for myself. Just like those Terrible Twos...
At least, that's the view from here...©
