When we lived in Georgia, one of our neighbors was a single woman that had a 30-something son that lived with her. Gathering from small-talk conversations here and there, the son had fairly recently moved back home with Mom, after losing his job and unable to live on his own. But it was just a temporary arrangement, the Mom would say.
I'm usually not very chummy with our neighbors because for one, I am an extremely shy person. Most people wouldn't guess that about me but I find it PAINFUL to engage in conversations with people I don't know. Also I'm not a lover of the outdoors so standing at the fence for hours upon hours talking to a neighbor isn't something I'd be very apt to do --but Jerry, my socially equipped husband, would find no greater way to spend an afternoon. And he did, many times.
And so our dear sweet neighbor would often tell of her son, "He's very hard working, such a nice young man --he just fell on some hard times but he's working hard to find another job . . ." But as far as I could tell, this 30-something man was well --not so hard working and not really looking for a job. He'd often say to Jerry, "I heard such-in-such place was hiring so I thought I'd go over there and put in an application." I mean, he thought a lot about things but putting those thoughts into action seemed an insurmountable task to the young man er, I mean --fully grow-up adult son. Jerry and I found it amusing how the mother spoke so highly of her son and yet, as far as we could see, he was just the opposite of everything she'd say. The son never stayed at one job every often as he often spoke of many different places, “. . when I worked over at . . . " and in a short amount of time too. We hardly ever saw him leave the house and not that we were the Mrs. Cravitz type but you know, in the course of our daily living, we hardly saw him out of his sofa-lounge wear or going to and from places. So maybe I'm being judgmental or harsh? Perhaps but most telling of this man was the condition of the neighbor's yard. The back yard was a disaster. The son brought his dog to Mom's with him and the dog did what dogs do in back yards, and the son never cleaned up after the dog --and the front yard had grass (weeds) 2 feet tall. The 30-something man would say, "Yeah, I'm 'bout to mow that grass for Mom." but much like the job hunting, the thinking rarely came to fruition and it wouldn't be long before we'd see the Mom mowing the yard.
Jerry always says of our own children, they can always come home. No matter what their age or circumstances, our home is their home –FOREVER. And I agree. We’d never turn our children away from living with us no matter their age or even how many they had in tow with them; spouse, children and a pet or two. That’s what Home should be – a place you can always go back to. Then again, if my 30-something year old unemployed son was living with me, my yard work would not be left undone and not because I'd demand that of him but hopefully because we instilled that in him --sort of that "earn your keep" mentality.
But this really isn’t about 30-something year old sons, former neighbors or yard work. In my lessons of learning to let go, I find this very strange phenomenon; that we as parents spend the entirety of our children’s childhood raising them up to be adults. It’s the end result, the goal, what we work towards. We teach them and prepare them, as best we know how, and then we let them go.
Let them go.
Everything we do is in an effort to make our children independent. Roughly at the age of two, they start grasping some of that concept when willfully demanding, “Mine! Mine!”, of almost any belonging, theirs or not. Along with trying to brand every item they ever touched as their very own, my toddling children used to also love to exclaim, "I do!" because they loved being so independent and free.
We cheered them when they learned to walk and talk and mastering using the potty was a celebration indeed. Early in life our children were taking these tiny steps towards total independence and as parents, we longed for it too. As a young mother I remember being anxious for that next milestone --I can't wait until they can walk, I can 't wait until they are out of a car seat, I can't wait until they can sit at the table and reach, I can't wait until they can . . . .
And now they can.
This is what we worked so hard towards, right?
So why is it so hard?
You see, I don't want a 30-something year old son living at home, not working nor attempting to work and not at the very least, helping around the house --and I certainly don't want his dog's poop piling up in my back yard. . . .
I don't want dependent adult children and Jerry sometimes jokes, "I'll be glad when I can walk around my own house butt naked."
But you know, that's just Jerry's way of saying he longs for some privacy in his own home.
I don't even know where this post is going except to say, this is a very strange stage of parenting for me. I want them to go and I want them to stay. All at the same time and at any given time, I can sum it up as feeling this way about my children --
PLEASE DON'T EVER LEAVE ME! WHY ARE YOU STILL HERE?
In some ways I'm still looking forward to those new milestones --I can't wait until they graduate college, I can't wait to see them choose a career or spouse --I can't wait to see where their lives go . . .I want so much for them and their future . . so much that does not include dog poop piling u in my back yard.
All I know is this, new Moms think they have so much to learn and they think at some point it finally clicks. It doesn't because as soon as you have one thing figured out, your children grow into a new stage. Parenting is constant learning and growing.
The best I can do is try to be the best learner I can be and open myself to growing.
They don't need me as much anymore and I guess in a way that says we accomplished our goal. Just like the first time I let go of a chubby toddler's hand and watched them walk away, I'm letting go now too --watching them walk away. And it leaves my heart screaming . .
PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ME!
Then when they stumble or feel insecure and try to grab hold of my hand again it leaves my heart screaming . .
WHY ARE YOU STILL HERE?
*sigh* I just can't figure it out.
I just hope they all go before Jerry starts strutting around in his birthday suit.
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