I went to visit my daughter last weekend. She had two consecutive days off, which is, in the world of surgical residencies, rare. She’s working crazy hours, she keeps her apartment clean, she’s 31. I can’t imagine why I was then surprised to find she participates in her municipal composting program. Seemed so adult – but wouldn’t medical school and a place of her own have proved already she’s grown?
I was surprised in the same way when my son organized his move from Brooklyn to Southern California. He used media mail to send his books to our house in advance. He’s 28 and probably not unfamiliar with a post office. I was impressed nevertheless.
Hypothesis. I’ve known my daughter as one focused on learning, achievement, friends, relationships – less so on what we might call citizenship. I’ve known my son as a creative and somewhat quirky person, an autodidact who resists many of my generation’s conventions. Maybe I was surprised because both kids knew things I never taught them.
My children haven’t lived at home for quite a while. With those little actions – so daily, seriously, compost and snail mail – they stepped right out of, let’s call it the “conceptual models,” I’d built over time. I’ve had to create something like avatars in my imagination, to keep them near me. Well, I don’t know if I had to, but I did.
We understand we have to let our children become independent, grow up. It’s the American way. But they grow outside our imaginations not just our homes.
These days when I find myself saying to myself, as I have for a decade, “I miss my kids,” I remind myself that, no, I love my kids. Because that doesn’t mean that I have to know exactly who they are.
I am interested to hear if anyone else has had similar moments. A good weekend is sincerely wished for all .
53 Responses
I find myself on the other side of the equation here. At 42, I’m about to make a U-turn in my career, learning something I have no practical experience in which I am enthusiastic about. More specifically, I’m about to embark on a course that will – hopefully – enable me to gradually start doing this thing I’m interested in professionally.
My family are bemused by this. A relative in particular has just told me in a scathing tone – But why on earth are you doing this? Have you EVER done X before?
Er, no, that’s why I’m going to take a course, to learn. Because I don’t think 42 is too late to do anything, much less learn.
But it’s hard when you realise the niches people you love have placed you in, and how they resist if you threaten their conception of who you are and what your life is.
I admire your clarity – and acceptance – regarding your children.
@A, I’m almost 70, and I’m at University in an unfamiliar program, and my family is asking me the same question! My answer is: because I think I’ll love it! Life is short and you only live once!
The difference I notice as a U student now, compared to 45 years ago when I first graduated, is that the Internet makes things a lot easier. It makes it easier to review lectures (often delivered electronically), to take notes and prepare assignments (I use OneNote), to capture information etc.
Also as a mature student, you are probably better organized and better motivated. I say: go for it!
@A, OMG 42 is by no means too late to do something new! And I can hope and imagine that 70 isn’t too late either. Anyone who is brave enough to take big new steps, steps that don’t hurt anyone else, shouldn’t really have to bump into the needs for no change that others might have. But, it’s not unusual. Brava to both of you.
People can, unwittingly or otherwise, often be peculiarly negative when you suddenly take a change of direction. The only way is forward, obvs. I trained as a teacher in my later 40s and it was the best time of life for me to do it. There is a huge world out there and so many varied ways to live in it. Best of luck.
While I don’t have children, I love your perspective. Seems an absolute healthy & ideal way to “raise” adults.
@drew, Thank you. I promise you, of course, that I’m better in writing about it than in living it, but I try very hard and I keep trying.
Oh lordy yes…when they are small you can’t imagine the way you need to keep them, internalised, with you at all times. And their realities are not as we have thought them to be. It is that which leads me to send thanks for their safety every night and to wish them well every day. It’s weird, being a parent.
@nohatnogloves, This is so true!
@nohatnogloves, I always used to feel like I had an alarm that was set to go off every couple of minutes, at first. It is WEIRD:).
Quoting A: But it’s hard when you realise the niches people you love have placed you in, and how they resist if you threaten their conception of who you are and what your life is.
Oh Lord YES!!! I’m 55 with no children but with very much living parent’s in their 80s. One thing (of the many) that I look to this and similar blogs for is an understanding of how mothers-of-adult-children think of things. What I usually get is a sense how how I wish my mother dealt with me as-an-adult-child. Understanding the gap between what I experience and what I might wish for as a daughter helps me understand my feelings and respond more as the adult I am rather than as the child she still sees me as. I still get shocked amazement and resentment and “I told you so” when I eat vegetables in front of her because “you threw such fits about vegetables!!! Do you remember the time…”
Life is just fascinating.
@KH, Ah, I can so imagine your mother talking like that. Any mother, really, that’s why I try so hard. xoxo.
My son is 32 and I’m constantly surprised at how much he knows that I haven’t taught him. I love that he’s a competent, successful and happy adult. I do miss those baby cheeks though.
@Leslie K, Oh the baby cheeks. Oh those cheeks. That velvet.
Yes, they grow beyond our imaginations if we are lucky. And for those of us who have lost a child (no matter the age of death) it is our imagination of them that is our comfort and our heartache.
But that is another story.
@Lee Ann,
Well said, Lee Ann. Me, too.
@Lee Ann, It’s your story – I am so sorry. I don’t have an imagination large enough to encompass what you’ve been through. You too Jeannine, you too.
My son is a few weeks shy of 14 and today my husband overheard him telling a friend in great detail about our upcoming move across the country and said how excited he was for his new high school and that he’d always wanted to live in the desert…he’s expressed school enthusiasm to me but to tell a friend (while playing violent video games) that he’s excited to go to a rigorous public high school (you have to test in) – that’s all him! Plus the desert thing – again, something he has chosen to embrace. So hard to fathom what 5 – 10 – 15 years will bring.
@Jb, How exciting that he’s so up for the big change. I love his attitude.
I can really relate to this. Two of my daughters are planning big moves in the near future. One to Uganda and one to Argentina. I can only hope I did a good enough job so they can take care of themselves. We never stop worrying or missing them, do we.
@MaryAnne, I am sure you did a good job, and it seems the worry and missing them persists. Uganda and Argentina – are you making plans to visit them? I think I’d have to!
I have, absolutely, had moments like this, but they seem distant now. For me, at least, so much changes through their 30s (and I now have two in their 40s, two still in 30s) and changes also in different ways as they become/acquire partners/spouses—and then again if they have children.
If we’re lucky, they’ll be nicely independent (um, it’s the Canadian way too) by the time we reluctantly admit we’re not quite, anymore….
@Frances, Oh I didn’t mean this was was owned by America. The “American way” is kind of an idiom that refers to our mythology, if that makes sense? Wow. Children in their 40s – that will be w whole new world!
I miss my kids, but I’m tremendously proud of the adults they’ve become.
I’m working on new ways of staying close/in-touch with them.
@RoseAG, New ways and probably every-changing ways are necessary.
Oh yes, I’m having many feelings similar to what you describe! I am working on the idea that as my son moves away and gets married that I am still important to him. This is very hard for me and probably far from the dream of being the beloved mother who is somehow lovingly in the center of his life.
The New York Times had an article about a woman feeling that being a grandmother was like looking through a glass window. For me that analogy fits.
luci
@luci, It is hard. Very hard, to have them move. We have to believe ourselves beloved and yet not at the center.
Those moments….it completely resonates with me….
To let our children become independent in the American way is not quite the Croatian way (we are more like Italians :-))
My son has chosen to be independent-it is surprising but I’m proud of it (and a little sad…..)
You have wonderful children,Lisa
Dottoressa
@dottoressa, Thank you. I am sure your son is wonderful, I understand the proud and yet a little sad.
Children go from dependent to independent adults in lightening speed. As others state, I miss my son. That said, I’m proud that he has an established career, home of his own, and is financially very sound. Living in different states definitely limits closeness and I’m working on this. Lisa’s family trip to Hawaii is now on my “to do” list.
@susan, Oh I hope you manage to swing that family trip. My aunt rents a house on Maui for her 3 boys, their partners, and their children. It’s another way to go, and I know they love it.
I think children/grandchildren are a bit like plant life; they keep the root but grow new branches and shoots. I smile when I see and hear our 52 year old son act a lot like his father, but then I realize there are also (wonderful) things about him that are very different. It is more difficult with my grandchildren because I still feel protective of them. I had lunch with my 19 YO grandson today – tomorrow he leaves to go back to college. When I asked him if he felt comfortable navigating the Denver airport and catching a ride back to campus by himself he said, “Nana, I got this, I can even go to the bathroom by myself now.” This from the kid who I insisted go in the ladies room with me until he was 12 because I was worried about perverts in the men’s room.
@Cynthia, Ah you have a 52-year old son and it’s still like this? Wow. Wonderful. Your grandson sounds absolutely lovely.
This is a beautiful post. I’m in the process of reinventing my relationship with my almost-19 year old. I understand what you mean although my kid has only gone away (so far) for 6 months to a national youth volunteer program and just returned home. Oh, we are not the same people we were before she left, nor should we be. She’s always been remarkably transparent with me. She trusts me but she also loathes me. We are neither of us natural in the parent-child relationship :-) I’ve been known to be critical. But what I’m starting to observe, as I work so actively to give her the agency she has earned, is that she’s occasionally brilliantly motivated and she cares about a lot of important things. She also likes to have a job and she always has one, which makes me vaguely hopeful. When she was 9, I couldn’t have imagined 19, but now that she’s 19, I see the inklings of her early 30s self. Once I was very afraid. Now I’m intrigued.
@K-Line, You are so spectacularly direct. I appreciate it so very much. I wish you and your daughter all kinds of joy in the road ahead.
Absolutely! It’s one of the joys of parenting adult children that they grow beyond you. Just wait until one or both become parents, should you be so lucky. Watching your child as a parent is as rewarding as being a grandparent.
PS At least in Portland OR you have no choice about participating in the municipal composting program, because they pick up compost and recycling weekly but trash only every other week. After visiting our child there I’m thinking I should do that too.
@MJ, And my daughter admitted it was very easy to compost – her apartment building participates;). Another reason that it’s funny I was so struck. We have municipal composting here too, it’s great once you get used to it.
My son moved out six months ago and it has been an interesting time for me. I was ready for him to go – he was 25, had just earned his master’s degree, and it was time for him to begin “adulting.” But now that he’s gone, I really miss him – and I worry sometimes about how our relationship will change. I have to remind myself constantly that this is a normal and not a negative thing. One thing that helps is that I myself moved away from my family at just about the same age and our relationships have not only survived but thrived. Of course they’re different but that different is not bad.
I just spoke to my son last night; he called me while he was picking up groceries on the way home from work. At one point in the call he asked, “Mom, is $8 a pound a good price for crab?” I thought, such an adult thing, to be budgeting (he is very careful with his money, which is an entirely new thing for him!) and I was proud. The simplest things are kind of cool, aren’t they? You’ve reminded me to appreciate that.
Wonderful to read that your daughter and son are thriving and doing well in their lives. And totally agree with you “We understand we have to let our children become independent, grow up. It’s the American way. But they grow outside our imaginations not just our homes”. My daughter is 8 years older than my son. She works in the legal field. My son was working for a tech company. He loved music and was considered a good drummer. On the side, he was playing gigs with a group of musicians for parties and whatnots. ~Amelia
oh yes I am also surprised what my son has achieved.
It’s only little % what we give them but the rest is
self education and what life has them teached. What an
enjoyable post.
Like Frances, I have two adult children in their 30s and two in their 40s. Just as no one is ever born into the same family—since whenever one is added, the dynamics change—so, too, as each child moves out to form their adult lives, the family dynamics change yet again and again, until you finally discover your home and yourself (to some degree) as childless once more. It is an interesting time of discovery because not only do your children change, so do you, if you pay attention.
All those years of focused parenting, all those days of car-pooling, homework reviewing, waiting up for them late at night—all of them are suddenly gone. Our children move on, learn things without us, do things differently, develop friendships, may marry (or not), have children (or not) and find their place in the world—-if we, and they, are lucky. And it is important not to box them into childhood roles (e.g. the witty one, the artistic one, the athletic one). However, we not only need to reset our thinking about who they are as adults, we also need to (re)consider who we are or will become after they leave. The answers may be surprising.
@Mary,
Such good points here, Mary. I think this might be why I alluded to our own move from independence to possible dependence, the possibilities that open for us once our grown children are independent, those are inevitably date-stamped. As our kids roar through their 30s and 40s and onward, and we’re moving from 60s to 70s, there’s another layer of awareness added to the way we see parent-child relationships. For me, at least. . .
This is perhaps the best post I’ve read about parenting once adult children take wing and are living independently. “Independently” in quotes, because there are times when they still need us, one way or another, and I am happy for the entré into their lives and oft amazed and enlightened as to their capabilities. If one were to ignore their adult strengths one could easily damage the relationship. No adult wants to be treated like a child, especially by their own parents.
@Jacqueline, Thank you very much. Absolutely, ignoring their adult strengths would be in no way good. It’s a relationship that seems to require persistent growth and evolution.
There is a saying here: “We cannot teach our children – they will follow our example anyway.” Your example must have been excellent.
Come to think of it, “educate” would a more accurate translation than “teach”.
This post is beautiful, bittersweet, and poignant ~ I’m having a hard time commenting.
I want you to know that I read it and have so many thoughts and feelings, but kept to myself for now. XO
This post moves me and inspires me. My sons are 15 so we are still very much in the thick of everything. I can feel all of the threads that bind us; there are so many and they’re fitting. But I can also feel some of the threads stretched taut and some long broken. My faith, born of experience with my mother dead 16 years, is that the new threads connect us even after we pass from one life to the next. It’s bittersweet, with the sweetness always lingering longer.
I am also inspired by A and Sensitive Poet!. Thank you for sharing the ways you are growing your lives, following your own curiosity. It’s powerful and inspiring to read this morning.
Lisa, you write so beautifully. This post was timely and especially touched my heart. On Friday afternoon, I spent time with my 29-year-old daughter who is now an English professor on the track to tenure. She was expressing her opinions on a variety of topics, including the educational system in the U.S., as well as her thoughts about how would she ever be able to combine her career aspirations with her ticking biological clock? (I didn’t even know she wanted to have children.) I listened to her, and am in awe of the person she is becoming (we are all works in progress). I felt both like her mom, a friend, and then someone meeting her for the first time: who is this interesting person?
I could relate to each sentence in your post, particularly: …”I love my kids. Because that doesn’t mean I have to know exactly who they are.”
It’s about unconditional love, isn’t it? Having respect for our children being their own people. Learning to ‘let go’ in certain ways, which isn’t easy.
Admittedly, I still pine away for the days when my children were younger and we were all together in our home. Beautiful, precious moments I treasure.
My son never ceases to amaze me, either for the person he is becoming. I look at him in awe so many times. He couldn’t be more different from my daughter, and not just because he has Asperger’s.
My son is tremendously insightful, loving, caring, creative, compassionate. I know these aren’t traits people usually associate with Asperger’s. However, as the saying goes in the autism world, “once you’ve met one child on the spectrum, you’ve met one child on the spectrum.”
My son discusses his hopes and dreams with me: of owning his own business someday.
The discussion which touched my heart the most was when he told me he wants to have a loving marriage and be a great dad to his children.
He asked me if I’d be willing to take care of his (future) children on a weekend every few months because: “you know, mom, it’s important to take care of your relationship with your spouse and my (future) wife and I will need to take a break from our children and get away from time to time.”
My gosh.
I’ve been a single mom for 20 years now. I was delighted to hear my son’s thoughts. Where did this all come from, I thought? So loving and kind.
Your post touched my heart. It’s one I’ll never forget. My daughter and I just discussed it a few minutes ago.
It took our relationship to a new level.
Thank you, thank you, thank you.
You are an extraordinary woman.
@Elizabeth Johnson, Your son sounds delightful (as does your daughter) and I’m sure, in some measure, it’s because you’ve been such a caring mum!
Lisa, Thank-you,
XOXO
Luci
Thank you K-Line for your kind words. From one caring mum to another,
xx Elizabeth
So nice to meet you at Coyuchi! Enjoy the pampering!
Interesting post and I liked your analogy about creating avatars of our children to keep them near us. I think this explains well what I have done also and it explains why it’s always been curious that I miss my children much more when I am with them than when I am not.
When I am not with them, I have my idea or avatar of who they are. When we are together, I cherish the time and love who they are becoming but am bittersweet as I realize how much of their lives do not include me and how far they’ve grown beyond where they were when they still were at home. I always feel a bit down after our visits until I can let go again and embrace not only who they are now but who I am without them.
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