Remember Our Bodies, Ourselves, followed by Ourselves, Growing Older and Ourselves and Our Children? As I contemplate them on my bookshelves I think of how far we have come in opening up all kinds of dialogs about intimate relationships within ourselves and with others.
"Adult children" is a term that sounds like an oxymoron. And it often does reflect a real contradiction in our thinking and feeling. Because the truth is, no matter how rational I try to be, in my mind my children (who are in their thirties and forties now) are still about twelve years old.
That's convenient, since it makes me about thirty-five. My husband prefers thirty-nine, like Jack Benny, but that's a "cusp" year, so I'll stick with something mid-stream.
Now, the hidden belief that my kids are still twelve isn't a problem most of the time, since they live some distance away and don't have to deal with a parent who treats them like middle-schoolers. But it does become a hurdle when they visit.
Then I magnanimously offer to babysit so they can go out to a movie at night, but since I can't go to sleep until they come in the door and I know they're safe, they are greeted by my tired face when they return. This leads to guilt on all our parts. They apologize for being late (and it's really not that late); I apologize for being up and feel very silly. And so it goes.
There's a real learning curve, I think, in getting used to having adult children. The curve starts around the time they stop coming home or move out of home. It rises when they really develop separate lives. It shows up in their relationships with people you don't know, opinions and hairstyles you don't like, living situations you're mildly horrified to visit, jobs you didn't know even existed.
Thinking about it, the real learning curve is this: accepting that our children are just like us. Look back. Didn't we want our own lives? Didn't we want our parents to treat us as adults? Didn't we want them to step back and let us make our own mistakes?
My parents did that, and though they are long gone I still silently thank them for giving me so much respect and trust. I also realize now how very hard it must have been for them, because their tendency was to want to protect forever.
So here are my ongoing resolutions. I promise to work to be as courageous as my parents were. I promise to remind myself daily of my children's strengths and good judgment. I promise to remember their true ages and my own. And I will try very hard to go to bed and not wait up for them when they visit. I might even be able to go to sleep.
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