Enjoy These Years
I vividly remember the years when I managed life with four children in tow, ages seven, five, three and newborn baby. I smiled politely, yet secretly despised the well-meaning adults who admonished me to "enjoy these years; before you know it your kids will be grown!" Never mind my precious young children crying in the grocery store, while I, frazzled and weary from lack of sleep and shower deemed food a necessity. It was extremely difficult to envision any light at the end of the tunnel in the fog of parenting multiple young children, let alone acknowledge the admiring grandparents who fondly recalled these years. Lately, with the glaring light at the end of the tunnel on 'high beam', my daughter a high school freshman, I catch myself admiring the young parents pushing toddlers on swings and walking strollers, wishing I could turn back the clock, yet honoring my pledge to never utter those dreaded words...'enjoy these years' to parents in the thick of it!
Control is arguably one of the hardest things to let go of as a parent as your children grow. Allowing your children to succeed and, yes, fail on their own. Inevitably, our daughter has matured into a teenager and thankfully she has experienced well-earned freedoms due to her responsible nature. Refusing to dole out money for all of our children's desires, she has managed a lucrative babysitting career since the age of twelve. It is bittersweet to see your child choose social and babysitting engagements that limit her time at home with family, yet increase her confidence and self-esteem. As a sentimental mother, I constantly remind myself of these positives when my children stretch their wings.
Having endured a cross-country move in 8th grade, my daughter succeeded in academics and friendships, much better than I at her age. Understandably, she longed to reunite with her friends in Colorado. As parents we supported her, as long as she paid for the flight herself. With tears in her eyes as she cashed $250 out of her bank account, I reminded myself of the valuable lesson and reward once she set foot on the plane, dismissing the instinct to lessen her burden. Smiling, I assured the concerned bank teller it was difficult as a teen to make such a large purchase, dissuading her possible fears of coercion.
While I was prepared to follow through with my daughter's self-funded vacation, I was shocked by my own feelings that transpired. Luckily her suitcase packing reminded me that she was still my little girl!
A stiff upper lip and long embrace was all I could manage when I dropped her off at the gate last week. She sensed I had to leave before I melted into a puddle of tears, after all, she knows her emotional momma best. "I'm proud of you sweet girl, enjoy your vacation," I said, refusing to acknowledge my selfish feelings of sorrow. Hastily departing and confident she would succeed, I questioned how I would manage, as my depression loomed like the gray Oregon winter sky. Quickly calculating that I had left home at age 16 to graduate high school when my own parents moved my senior year, I thankfully conceded that 3.5 years of my daughter's teenage drama remained before she left home. As I returned to my car, I worried less about my daughter traveling alone, and more about her leaving for college soon. A testament to her abilities and my own adult drama!
Truthfully, while I despise the social media pressures on teen girls, my daughter's iPhone (she bought herself) bridged the distance thanks to her social media posts and texting. Beaming with joy, she safely returned following her five-day vacation, having nurtured long-distance relationships, yet realizing she was homesick for Oregon. Needless to say, she has already begun counting the days until she can earn enough money for her next vacation. Humorously, her friends fear their parents will adopt the 'pay your own way' to Oregon rule, in reciprocation, while her brothers insist they will spend their hard earned money on bubble tea drinks and Pokémon. An adventurer myself, I understand her passion for travel experiences!
My daughter's vacation prepared us for the years ahead. Forced family fun (#FFF) is a parental requirement in our household, and as a result, my photo albums outnumber our bookshelves. Honestly, every age is a challenge and a blessing. Even on the most dramatic of days when parenting is hardest, I am conscious that I should 'enjoy these years' because they are numbered.
I attended my 7th grader's jazz band concert at a nursing home this afternoon. Ironically, a sweet grandmotherly lady admiring the mothers watching their children perform, turned to me and whispered, "enjoy these years." I warmly smiled in return this time, choking back my tears and pride, "I try to enjoy them all!"
Control is arguably one of the hardest things to let go of as a parent as your children grow. Allowing your children to succeed and, yes, fail on their own. Inevitably, our daughter has matured into a teenager and thankfully she has experienced well-earned freedoms due to her responsible nature. Refusing to dole out money for all of our children's desires, she has managed a lucrative babysitting career since the age of twelve. It is bittersweet to see your child choose social and babysitting engagements that limit her time at home with family, yet increase her confidence and self-esteem. As a sentimental mother, I constantly remind myself of these positives when my children stretch their wings.
Having endured a cross-country move in 8th grade, my daughter succeeded in academics and friendships, much better than I at her age. Understandably, she longed to reunite with her friends in Colorado. As parents we supported her, as long as she paid for the flight herself. With tears in her eyes as she cashed $250 out of her bank account, I reminded myself of the valuable lesson and reward once she set foot on the plane, dismissing the instinct to lessen her burden. Smiling, I assured the concerned bank teller it was difficult as a teen to make such a large purchase, dissuading her possible fears of coercion.
While I was prepared to follow through with my daughter's self-funded vacation, I was shocked by my own feelings that transpired. Luckily her suitcase packing reminded me that she was still my little girl!
A stiff upper lip and long embrace was all I could manage when I dropped her off at the gate last week. She sensed I had to leave before I melted into a puddle of tears, after all, she knows her emotional momma best. "I'm proud of you sweet girl, enjoy your vacation," I said, refusing to acknowledge my selfish feelings of sorrow. Hastily departing and confident she would succeed, I questioned how I would manage, as my depression loomed like the gray Oregon winter sky. Quickly calculating that I had left home at age 16 to graduate high school when my own parents moved my senior year, I thankfully conceded that 3.5 years of my daughter's teenage drama remained before she left home. As I returned to my car, I worried less about my daughter traveling alone, and more about her leaving for college soon. A testament to her abilities and my own adult drama!
Truthfully, while I despise the social media pressures on teen girls, my daughter's iPhone (she bought herself) bridged the distance thanks to her social media posts and texting. Beaming with joy, she safely returned following her five-day vacation, having nurtured long-distance relationships, yet realizing she was homesick for Oregon. Needless to say, she has already begun counting the days until she can earn enough money for her next vacation. Humorously, her friends fear their parents will adopt the 'pay your own way' to Oregon rule, in reciprocation, while her brothers insist they will spend their hard earned money on bubble tea drinks and Pokémon. An adventurer myself, I understand her passion for travel experiences!
My daughter's vacation prepared us for the years ahead. Forced family fun (#FFF) is a parental requirement in our household, and as a result, my photo albums outnumber our bookshelves. Honestly, every age is a challenge and a blessing. Even on the most dramatic of days when parenting is hardest, I am conscious that I should 'enjoy these years' because they are numbered.
I attended my 7th grader's jazz band concert at a nursing home this afternoon. Ironically, a sweet grandmotherly lady admiring the mothers watching their children perform, turned to me and whispered, "enjoy these years." I warmly smiled in return this time, choking back my tears and pride, "I try to enjoy them all!"
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