Many of my friends that have children are struggling through the teen years with their offspring. Since I started my family later, I'm lagging behind.
Recently I was sitting with a group of friends who have adult age children. One mom remarked “As long as I am alive my child will never get a tattoo.”
I thought this statement was funny for two reasons. First, the “child” at issue is an adult. She has already finished college, has her own apartment, and pretty much supports herself. And second, the daughter already has a tattoo, a pink rose on her shoulder. Apparently, mommy dearest is the only one the county who doesn’t know that her kid’s been inked.
What struck me about this conversation wasn’t that a post-college gal bucked her mom's wishes and got a tattoo. What struck me was how much this mom really believed she could continue to exert control over the lives of her adult children.
Control is an illusion.
Even though my kids are young, I’m already coming to terms with three facts of life.
What struck me about this conversation wasn’t that a post-college gal bucked her mom's wishes and got a tattoo. What struck me was how much this mom really believed she could continue to exert control over the lives of her adult children.
Control is an illusion.
Even though my kids are young, I’m already coming to terms with three facts of life.
- Fact one, while they are children there are limits on what I can control.
- Fact two, once they are grown, I’ll have no control.
- Fact three, no matter how difficult it may seem, this is a good thing.
Being out of control is tough lesson for someone like me who thrives on order. But since I’ve become a parent, I’ve been learning to let go. I've been learning that when it comes to my children, I have less power than I realize.
Take bed time as an example. As a mom, I can enforce a bed time of eight o’clock every night. But once my kids are in their jammies and tucked into their beds, I can’t force them to sleep. That’s up to them.
I’ve been through this with Emily, age four. Every night we follow the same routine. Bath, Jammies, Stories, Bed, Lights Out. Some nights she falls asleep immediately. But often, if I stand outside her door at ten o’clock, I can hear her singing “You Are My Sunshine” to her teddy bear. I know that if she stays up late and doesn't get enough sleep she'll be grouchy in the morning. But I also know there’s nothing I can do about it.
I’m also learning that I can’t control what my kids like and don’t like. Eric, age seven, doesn’t like oranges, which is weird because he likes Orange Juice. But no matter how hard I try, he refuses to take a single bite of an orange. The pungent citrus smell turns him off.
I know, if I wanted, I could force him to eat one. I could use threats and rewards. I could badger and barter. Any maybe if I prodded and pushed hard enough he would eat the orange. But no matter what I do, and no matter how hard I try, I can never force him to like oranges. That choice belongs to him.
Finally, I'm learning that I can’t control how my kids think. I can guide them. I can teach them. I can lead them. I can be an example for them. I can hope and I can pray. But in the end, their dreams, their wishes, their desires, their beliefs, whatever happens inside their heads belongs only to them.
And the older my kids get, the less control I'll have. Before I know it, all of my power will be gone. Whether it’s picking a boyfriend, choosing a major, selecting a job, or deciding where to live, after my baby birds leave the nest, there won’t be much this mama bird can do.
So right now, I’m practicing letting go. I sit back and watch Eric make a bad decision and I let him live with his consequences. He needs to learn cause and effect. And letting him learn these lessons is the best thing I can do for him.
I watch Beth (age 2) running. I can see that she is going too fast. She will probably fall down. But I let it happen. I know she needs to learn for herself what speed is right for running.
Every day in little ways I’m getting ready for the day when my kids won’t need me. I'm preparing for the day when they'll fly away. I'm hoping I can teach them well and trusting that they'll do the right thing.
And every day, I’m saying that prayer:
Take bed time as an example. As a mom, I can enforce a bed time of eight o’clock every night. But once my kids are in their jammies and tucked into their beds, I can’t force them to sleep. That’s up to them.
I’ve been through this with Emily, age four. Every night we follow the same routine. Bath, Jammies, Stories, Bed, Lights Out. Some nights she falls asleep immediately. But often, if I stand outside her door at ten o’clock, I can hear her singing “You Are My Sunshine” to her teddy bear. I know that if she stays up late and doesn't get enough sleep she'll be grouchy in the morning. But I also know there’s nothing I can do about it.
I’m also learning that I can’t control what my kids like and don’t like. Eric, age seven, doesn’t like oranges, which is weird because he likes Orange Juice. But no matter how hard I try, he refuses to take a single bite of an orange. The pungent citrus smell turns him off.
I know, if I wanted, I could force him to eat one. I could use threats and rewards. I could badger and barter. Any maybe if I prodded and pushed hard enough he would eat the orange. But no matter what I do, and no matter how hard I try, I can never force him to like oranges. That choice belongs to him.
Finally, I'm learning that I can’t control how my kids think. I can guide them. I can teach them. I can lead them. I can be an example for them. I can hope and I can pray. But in the end, their dreams, their wishes, their desires, their beliefs, whatever happens inside their heads belongs only to them.
And the older my kids get, the less control I'll have. Before I know it, all of my power will be gone. Whether it’s picking a boyfriend, choosing a major, selecting a job, or deciding where to live, after my baby birds leave the nest, there won’t be much this mama bird can do.
So right now, I’m practicing letting go. I sit back and watch Eric make a bad decision and I let him live with his consequences. He needs to learn cause and effect. And letting him learn these lessons is the best thing I can do for him.
I watch Beth (age 2) running. I can see that she is going too fast. She will probably fall down. But I let it happen. I know she needs to learn for herself what speed is right for running.
Every day in little ways I’m getting ready for the day when my kids won’t need me. I'm preparing for the day when they'll fly away. I'm hoping I can teach them well and trusting that they'll do the right thing.
And every day, I’m saying that prayer:
God, give us grace to accept with serenity the things that cannot be changed; Courage to change the things which should be changed; and the Wisdom to distinguish the one from the other.
Reinhold Niebuhr (1892-1971)
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