Give me a parenting manual, and I'll throw it away
My daughter turned 17 thismorning. Seems as good a time as any toreflect back on all these years, especially as the bittersweet waves ebband flow through me: she'll be gone in twomonths. This is it, I find myself thinking. I'm almost done…. How couldit have only been five years ago thatshe was in Kindergarten, telling cashiers at the store her name was "FlowerRose?" Sixsince she made sacrificial offerings to the elvesand fairies of the backyard forest? Sevensince I was able to hold her tiny, yielding body over my shoulder and cup hersweet little head with my cheek? Sure, there are many things I wish I could have known about parenthood beforehand -- the kind of truths a close and trusted friend might confide haltingly,not wanting to scare you. I suppose I wouldn't have believed them anyway.... Even when I scoured books, looking for theback story, the unvarnished version of parenthood, I could only suss it out inbits and pieces. I longed for the magicmanual, spelling it all out in advance. But surely, had I skipped over the surprises I discovered below, there would have been others. Plus, I would have missed out on the bootythat challenges yield in retrospect -- whereyou're actually thankful for the hardships;the shimmering relief of uncovered simplicities, layered nevertheless in pain and struggle.
I'd be doing it mainly alone
Like most women, when Iinitially paired up with my now ex-partner, I had visions of a happy family thatextended all the way to the eventual release of our baby birds from their nest-- us standing there together hand in hand, sighing as our little ones bravely flapped offinto the sunset. Instead, this has been myreality: I've parented my children alone for the majority of their lives. Not what I'd had in mind, by any means.
On one level, this leaves mehaunted by a subtle and pervasive sorrow, wondering as I do about my ownweaknesses as a mother; longing for the support and emotional shorthand of apartner standing beside me; a cohort. On another level, at least I know I'm notalone -- all around me, I am surroundedby single parents. I'm glad for theconsolation, but I still ache not only for mychildren, but all the children inthis situation. Surely, most new parentsembark upon their journey silently insisting (and truth be told, perhaps alittle fearfully), OUR family will bedifferent, WE'LL stay together. WE won't end up like all those other people.
Sadly, statistics do notbear this out. Many of them will bewrong.
Still, would I still have signed upfor this had I known that I'd be doing this mostly by myself? Yes. Absolutely and without question. Because I cannot, nor do I WANT toimagine life without my two wonderful and beloved daughters. However, I might have made some differentchoices in my marriage, regardless. Imight have whined less about his dedication to work, I might have let myself beless subsumed by the tasks ofmothering small children, and saved something more for my partnership, insteadof leaving it the afterthought of cold leftovers. (We both did that to eachother.) I admit, I still wish I couldhave headed off the dissolution of our marriage in theory even eight years later, butit's because I've seen firsthand the schism that divorce creates in children: thedual worlds; the internalizing of faulty, future relationship models; how muchthey end up missing one, or both, parents; the struggles to accept new partnersinto the equation. And this, coming fromsomeone who feels incredibly lucky to have crafted close, working friendshipswith both my ex-husband and his wife, and is in a happy relationship myself.
The mirror is often unkind
I knew parenting would makeme grow. How could it not? But I had noway to anticipate the grueling nature of some of that growth. When we imagine ourselves stretching andlearning from life's inevitable tests, we often sugarcoat our willingness toturn and face our blind spots, our ability to break through ourcarefully-cultivated walls of denial. Denial is there because it's served us in some way! Why give that up? I had to take a good look at how my "sadstories" from childhood were in actuality only serving to keep me in acocoon of self-pity and self-absorption and were, in fact, helping me to createthe same exact "wounds" in my own children. I couldn't continue to be lazy about myissues. I couldn't just stay confused orfearful anymore. I had to figure this one out, even if I hadn'tthe slightest idea where to start. I hadto learn how to thaw, how to surrender into the experience of being amother and stop "waiting" until I felt at peace. Not a pretty realization, and initially, itwas overwhelming. Ironically, seeingthis ugliness inside eventually led me to where I wanted to be. And I'm endlessly grateful.
There's nothing to it
Ha! Who would have thought that motherhood couldalso be so damned easy! Isn't anythingworth doing also worth slaving over? Turnsout, I both under- and overestimated the amount of "work" parentingwould be and was proven wrong time and time again by life. In the midst of a toddler tantrum; at theheight of pre-teen/teen raging and outbursts, staggering from the arrows ofhateful words slung my way - we'd unexpectedly find ourselves making a joke, crackinga smile, lurching forward for a hug. We'd diffuse the conflict, reaching out toeach other with relief and sudden, unblocked momentum.
My children and I almostalways, if not right after, then at somepoint, make sure to apologize and make amends. Maybe it's with a massage, acup of tea, a hand on the shoulder, a small offering of some sort or another. No matter the state of things -- a messyhouse, looming stresses, whatever -- our family routinely finds great joy insimple playfulness, acts of kindness and generosity. Sometimes I find myself thinking, why all the anguish? Piece of cake! This makes my heart swell and helps me tofeel that, if they at least take this lightness, this insistence on connection out there with them in life, everything else will beokay.
I'm just not that into you
The older they got, the more I realized, it really was lessabout me, and more about them. It's allwell and good to spend lots of time refining and implementing your ideasregarding discipline, structure, routine and consequences. But it can come as a rude surprise to bumpup against this: you're still dealing with separate individuals who have their ownlife spirits and personalities. Sometimesyou have to ask yourself - at what pointare you over-imposing your own will andpreferences upon them in a way that has more to do with your ego, than what's bestfor them? I suppose this question isonly natural to consider as your children assert themselves inadolescence, but it bears analysis during earlier childhood as well. How many of your "rules" forchildrearing come from a place of fear? From lack at what you did or didn't have? From a place of not wanting to lose the power struggle? It's possible to "steer" and guidewithout domination, but it took me many years to understand that getting this didn't mean I was giving up something.
It goes by so very, very quickly
When your children aretiny and you're getting up for the seventh time that night, then have tosuffer through the demands of taking care of aninfant or toddler all day, it's easy to feel like the hours of your lifehave slowed to a crawl. You sleepwalk through your days, only to begin thewhole cycle again at night. And whenthey're a bit older, there are colds and messes and stresses and all kinds ofchallenges that keep you up at night worrying, fretting, and wringing your hands. Some problemsfeel like they're NEVER going to get better. Plus, you secretlyworry about under-living your own life-- the dreams and goals knitting scarves from dust bunnies under the bed; thehopes and wishes withering in the corner. Sometimes it's only whenyou notice the absence of a problem that you later realize it's gone. Everythingchanges.
Life seems to speed up once they hit adolescence,especially when they seem to care more about branching out based on their owninterests and impulses, and less about pleasing you. You realize with a start that they oftenforget about you! Try picturing that kind of behavior from your little five year-old darling!
The last three of four years in particular have whizzed with my children. I can't believe my own child is about to set out on her own,out there in the world, without me checking up on her every day. I'm about to become more of a bystander, someone she simply touches base with. Part of me just cannot take this in -- too much has gone by in a compressedblur, I’m shocked at how fast it's allhappened. I wish I had savored themoments more, even the difficult ones, instead of wishing them away. Somedaytoo, your children will be gone and you'll miss them.
It ain't over 'til the very end!
I know intellectually thatmy job as a mother isn't finished once my children walk out that door. I'll always be wondering how they are-- if they're happy, feel good in their own skin, are living their lives with a sense of purpose, richness and meaning, surrounded by love. But since I haven't lived through an empty nest yet, I'll have to just figure it out as it happens, like so much ofmotherhood.
As we sat around thebreakfast table this morning, we talked about what kind of people we wanted tobe when we were older. Myyoungest daughter Madeleine, in typical fashion, was still sleepy and wasn't much for talking, so she justlistened to Sophie and I meander in our conversation. Sophie wants to be a musician, awriter, a chronicler of experiences and adventures -- essentially,a wanderer, since our own family travelshave inspired such a massive sense of wanderlust. I want to be an "old lady rower" who continues to plumb the depths of theworld myself. It was weird imagining Sophie closer to my age (43), trying to get a sense of how her lifemight feel and unfold -- and also see myselfmoving closer to my own end, diminishing in strength, but hopefully, not vitality.
For all of us, I wish us astrong and healthy connections, rootedin love and compassion, caring and growth, exploration and discovery. Ourstory as a a family is at once uniquelypersonal, but also universal. Even if I'd hada manual spelling out all the astonishments above -- fundamentally, there's not much I would have changed, and that'sdeeply and surprisingly rewarding.
(This essay was inspired by the Blog Blast: Tell Us Your Truth About Motherhood challenge from the Parent Bloggers Network, examining what you wished you might have known before you had children.)
© 2008 Jennifer Newcomb Marine All Rights Reserved
