Wednesday, August 16, 2017
Wednesday, August 9, 2017
Tuesday, August 8, 2017
Am I lacking in Maternal Feeling?
I'm noticing a phenomenon, of late, that has me questioning my own maternal instincts. All around me, I'm seeing parents who, facing the impending departure of their young adult children, are emotionally wrecked. More than sentimental, they seem devastated by loss, finding it difficult to face the reality of a child departing for college or "the real world". I even read an extremely touching piece by Rob Lowe once, detailing his own inner turmoil over taking his son to college.
Don't get me wrong, I really do find this all very touching. It's just that I'm unable to relate. This makes me wonder if I'm somehow doing the mothering thing all wrong.
So far, in my maternal career, I've launched two adults into the world. My Oldest went off to college, living with his dad for the first couple of years, before going off on his own. My Middle Child, headstrong from birth, got her own apartment when she turned 18, five years ago. During neither of those transitions did I feel any great sense of loss or upheaval. Does this make me an unfeeling mother? Is my heart, like the Grinch's, two sizes too small?
To be fair, both of those transitions were sort of tucked into much larger times of turmoil. When Oldest graduated high school, his girlfriend of four years broke up with him, which led to his first major heartbreak. We all grieved along with him, partly because we'd accepted the girl into our family and our hearts, and partly because his grief was so all consuming that we couldn't help but share it. At the same time, there was a lot going on in my extended family. My little brother got married at the beginning of that summer, the second of siblings to do so in a six month period. My father remarried at the end of the summer, which was an emotional upheaval all its own. Immediately following that wedding, our entire family was devastated by the loss of my uncle, a much-loved man in the prime of his life. With all of that going on, Oldest sort of quietly headed off to his dad's house, and off to college. I cleaned out his room and created the first guest room of my adult life.
When MC left us, it seemed like the culmination of a job completed. We'd home schooled for the last two years of high school, and that was grueling, to say the least. Additionally, we'd spent those two years living in a strange (to us) town, and MC traveled the four hours between our house and her dad's often, sometimes in a parental vehicle, sometimes on the bus. We moved back to our home state right after she graduated, and were careful to keep her belongings separate from the rest of the family's because we knew she'd be moving out.
At one point, MC questioned my lack of sentimentality over her impending departure. I told her I wasn't going to cry when she left, any more than I cry when the toothpick comes cleanly out of the banana bread. To me, parenthood is a project, and the goal of the project is to send adults out into the world. Check!
Maybe that's the key? Sure, I'm still involved with my kids, I'm still holding my breath to see how it's all going to turn out, but going back to the banana bread analogy, I'm always holding my breath when we cut into the bread, too. Is it done in the middle? Burned on the bottom? Does it taste the way it should? There's nothing more I can do to fundamentally change the bread at that point. I can stick a partially cooked slice in the toaster, I can slap some butter on it if it's dry, but basically, it is whatever it is when I take it out of the oven. So, too, are my children. I can help them, I can offer them support, but once they're out on their own, their mistakes, as well as their successes, are their own. I'm a bystander now, albeit an interested one. And the thing is, I think I'm ok with that. It seems like the natural order of things.
Am I blasé because I'm unfeeling? I don't think so. I love my kids with my whole heart and soul. They're always in my thoughts, always on my heart, always in my prayers. Is it because I still have a little one at home? I don't know. Maybe it makes it easier because my nest isn't empty. I know other parents with littles and bigs, though, who are still suffering.
Is it because of my divorce? That may be a big part of it. Throughout their childhood, I had to share my big kids, as they went back and forth between my house and their dad's. I will admit, it used to rip my heart out of my chest. Intellectually, I looked forward to having some down time, some time alone to accomplish things that were hard to do with two little ones in tow. Emotionally, though, it was an entirely different matter. The minute they were gone I felt lost, as though someone had taken some part of me for the weekend. In the beginning, I'd cry. As time went on, I got tougher. So maybe by this time, I'm just tough. Maybe my heart has grown callouses over the tender spots that used to ache from the absence of my children. Maybe when Small One leaves for college, after a childhood of staying with me every weekend, I'll feel afresh that pain of separation.
I really think, though, that I just look at parenting differently. It's a big part of my life, but it's not my whole life. Even now, while Small is small, and still needs me every day, I'm doing my own thing when she's not here. I'm 100% invested in the career of motherhood, but I understand that it's not permanent, and I'm working on myself and my interests, knowing that as she needs me less, I'll be able to pursue other interests more. In many ways, my career is just beginning. By the time Small leaves me, I hope to be successful enough in other endeavors to avoid being at a loss as to how to spend my time and energy.
That's the hope. Of course, I should also mention that if you call my Small a tween I will punch you in the throat. Yes, I'm well aware she's almost 11, and painfully cognizant of the fact that middle school is a mere school year away. But this is a kid who still wears ruffle socks when left to her own devices, and who routinely holds my hand in public. She's older, but she's not yet old. I will admit, the first day of the last year of elementary school gave me a pang. Because the distance between second grade and fifth grade looks like this:
And that makes me a little misty. So it's possible I'm not quite the Grinch I thought I was.
Don't get me wrong, I really do find this all very touching. It's just that I'm unable to relate. This makes me wonder if I'm somehow doing the mothering thing all wrong.
So far, in my maternal career, I've launched two adults into the world. My Oldest went off to college, living with his dad for the first couple of years, before going off on his own. My Middle Child, headstrong from birth, got her own apartment when she turned 18, five years ago. During neither of those transitions did I feel any great sense of loss or upheaval. Does this make me an unfeeling mother? Is my heart, like the Grinch's, two sizes too small?
To be fair, both of those transitions were sort of tucked into much larger times of turmoil. When Oldest graduated high school, his girlfriend of four years broke up with him, which led to his first major heartbreak. We all grieved along with him, partly because we'd accepted the girl into our family and our hearts, and partly because his grief was so all consuming that we couldn't help but share it. At the same time, there was a lot going on in my extended family. My little brother got married at the beginning of that summer, the second of siblings to do so in a six month period. My father remarried at the end of the summer, which was an emotional upheaval all its own. Immediately following that wedding, our entire family was devastated by the loss of my uncle, a much-loved man in the prime of his life. With all of that going on, Oldest sort of quietly headed off to his dad's house, and off to college. I cleaned out his room and created the first guest room of my adult life.
When MC left us, it seemed like the culmination of a job completed. We'd home schooled for the last two years of high school, and that was grueling, to say the least. Additionally, we'd spent those two years living in a strange (to us) town, and MC traveled the four hours between our house and her dad's often, sometimes in a parental vehicle, sometimes on the bus. We moved back to our home state right after she graduated, and were careful to keep her belongings separate from the rest of the family's because we knew she'd be moving out.
At one point, MC questioned my lack of sentimentality over her impending departure. I told her I wasn't going to cry when she left, any more than I cry when the toothpick comes cleanly out of the banana bread. To me, parenthood is a project, and the goal of the project is to send adults out into the world. Check!
Maybe that's the key? Sure, I'm still involved with my kids, I'm still holding my breath to see how it's all going to turn out, but going back to the banana bread analogy, I'm always holding my breath when we cut into the bread, too. Is it done in the middle? Burned on the bottom? Does it taste the way it should? There's nothing more I can do to fundamentally change the bread at that point. I can stick a partially cooked slice in the toaster, I can slap some butter on it if it's dry, but basically, it is whatever it is when I take it out of the oven. So, too, are my children. I can help them, I can offer them support, but once they're out on their own, their mistakes, as well as their successes, are their own. I'm a bystander now, albeit an interested one. And the thing is, I think I'm ok with that. It seems like the natural order of things.
Am I blasé because I'm unfeeling? I don't think so. I love my kids with my whole heart and soul. They're always in my thoughts, always on my heart, always in my prayers. Is it because I still have a little one at home? I don't know. Maybe it makes it easier because my nest isn't empty. I know other parents with littles and bigs, though, who are still suffering.
Is it because of my divorce? That may be a big part of it. Throughout their childhood, I had to share my big kids, as they went back and forth between my house and their dad's. I will admit, it used to rip my heart out of my chest. Intellectually, I looked forward to having some down time, some time alone to accomplish things that were hard to do with two little ones in tow. Emotionally, though, it was an entirely different matter. The minute they were gone I felt lost, as though someone had taken some part of me for the weekend. In the beginning, I'd cry. As time went on, I got tougher. So maybe by this time, I'm just tough. Maybe my heart has grown callouses over the tender spots that used to ache from the absence of my children. Maybe when Small One leaves for college, after a childhood of staying with me every weekend, I'll feel afresh that pain of separation.
I really think, though, that I just look at parenting differently. It's a big part of my life, but it's not my whole life. Even now, while Small is small, and still needs me every day, I'm doing my own thing when she's not here. I'm 100% invested in the career of motherhood, but I understand that it's not permanent, and I'm working on myself and my interests, knowing that as she needs me less, I'll be able to pursue other interests more. In many ways, my career is just beginning. By the time Small leaves me, I hope to be successful enough in other endeavors to avoid being at a loss as to how to spend my time and energy.
That's the hope. Of course, I should also mention that if you call my Small a tween I will punch you in the throat. Yes, I'm well aware she's almost 11, and painfully cognizant of the fact that middle school is a mere school year away. But this is a kid who still wears ruffle socks when left to her own devices, and who routinely holds my hand in public. She's older, but she's not yet old. I will admit, the first day of the last year of elementary school gave me a pang. Because the distance between second grade and fifth grade looks like this:
And that makes me a little misty. So it's possible I'm not quite the Grinch I thought I was.
Thursday, August 3, 2017
Long Time Passing
Where does the time go? It's been more than three years since I gave this little blog any love. Of course, that's just because I've been so busy with all the bon-bon eating and lazing about.Ha! It's actually because, along with all the Creature wrangling, I've been doing a ton of writing professionally, which leaves me very little time to think about my own blog.
Small One is not so small anymore. In fact, sometimes I look at her and am completely shocked by how old she looks! She's only got one more year in elementary school, and that makes me extremely mushy. My older two are solidly in their 20s, which makes me a much less integral part of their adventures.
Don't think that means I don't get my quota of little kid action these days. My closest cousin and oldest friend has been blessed, unexpectedly, with a little girl who is now almost four years old, and I play nanny to her twice a week. Since this child is more of a whirlwind than my Small was, she definitely keeps me hopping! For the purposes of this blog, we'll call her Squirrel. (What else do you call a small thing with a penchant for climbing and a constant stream of chatter?) She's not mine, but she and the Small One act like sisters, which is nice.
Anyway, the point is, I'd sort of like to kick this blog back into gear. I'm not promising a daily post or anything, but I do think I'll pop in from time to time and tell you all a thing or two. Wish me luck!
Small One is not so small anymore. In fact, sometimes I look at her and am completely shocked by how old she looks! She's only got one more year in elementary school, and that makes me extremely mushy. My older two are solidly in their 20s, which makes me a much less integral part of their adventures.
Don't think that means I don't get my quota of little kid action these days. My closest cousin and oldest friend has been blessed, unexpectedly, with a little girl who is now almost four years old, and I play nanny to her twice a week. Since this child is more of a whirlwind than my Small was, she definitely keeps me hopping! For the purposes of this blog, we'll call her Squirrel. (What else do you call a small thing with a penchant for climbing and a constant stream of chatter?) She's not mine, but she and the Small One act like sisters, which is nice.
Anyway, the point is, I'd sort of like to kick this blog back into gear. I'm not promising a daily post or anything, but I do think I'll pop in from time to time and tell you all a thing or two. Wish me luck!
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