Wednesday, January 10, 2007

My Mother's Day Life Lessons

This Mother's Day, I enter a new stage. I am now the parent of an adult child. Though my daughter is grown, she is still my child. And though I am now old enough to have a grown daughter, I am still my mother's child.

It doesn't seem possible that we brought our newborn daughter home from the hospital 18 years ago. In those early days, I never thought much about what it meant to be a mother. Like most new moms, I floated in and out of a foggy, sleep-deprived, though blissful state. I don't remember being particularly worried about the awesome responsibility of caring for a child. Perhaps if I'd stopped to think about it I would have been more anxious. Mostly I just remember being entranced by this perfect little being.

By the time my children became toddlers, I thought more about my role as a parent. I supported their natural curiosity about the world while trying to keep them safe. Safety rules were critical, my responses automatic. Other decisions - like denying the extra cookie or telling a defiant child it was bed time - were not things that required deep thought.

As my children grew older, I had to think more, making important decisions about what to allow, and what to refuse. My kids began asking questions I was unprepared to answer. The canned, clever responses of the past like "we'll see" or "ask me later" no longer worked. And it was never easy giving an answer I knew would be followed by tension, anger and tears, even if it was the right one. I always told my kids the surest way to get "no" for a response was to plead "everyone else is doing it."

There have been many lessons over my almost two decades as a parent. One thing I've learned is that I can't fix everything for my kids, and more importantly, I shouldn't try to. Sometimes the best thing is to just be there, to listen.

I've made many mistakes over the years, sometimes by saying the wrong thing, other times by not saying enough. I've learned if I'm not comfortable with something, I need to speak up. After all, that's what I've always told my kids to do.

There were many times, especially in the adolescent and teenage years, when my ambiguous discomfort was the sole reason for refusing a request. I'm sure there were times I was unreasonable, maybe even unfair. But I also knew I could not ignore uneasy feelings. I'd always wonder what would have been different if I'd said something. Though I may have hesitated before giving an answer I knew would make my kids mad, I never feared making waves. In the end, I always went with my gut. I suppose I still do.

As a mother, I've tried to give my kids freedom to try new things and make mistakes while also helping them stay safe. For me, this balancing act is the hardest part of being a parent. The other day my daughter and I talked about it. "You and dad have done a good job as parents," she said. She went on to say it was good how we built up to things, refusing some requests, allowing other things, each time with more freedom, more responsibility. I guess we've managed the right mix of "yes and no." Not perfect, but good enough.

Being a parent is a life-long thing. Though older, my children still need me, just as surely as I still need them. And I still need my mother for so many things - advice on handling a problem, having someone to share what's on my mind. And my mom, she is always there, ready to listen with genuine interest to both the thrilling and ordinary stories of my life. When I think about it, I guess that's what mothers are for.

(This column was originally published on townonline.com May, 2006)

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