Family

Responsible Parenting: What To Do With Your Grown Children

There are so many blogs about raising children that Mommy Blogging is it’s own industry. I heard a podcast this week featuring a woman who writes a blog for people who want to start a mom blog.  Seriously. And that tells you a little something about how seriously some people take this whole child-rearing business and how much insecurity there is about it.

Long before the advent of the parenting blog, Paul and I were well on our way to ruining our own children with non-organic food, backpacks, candy, cartoons, video games, toy guns, Barbie Dolls, and all manner of unhealthy food and politically incorrect toys and activities. We even spanked them occasionally, mostly for form’s sake and without enthusiasm, usually as a last resort. I don’t think it did any harm, but I can’t say it did much good.

If you’re reading this, I’m going to assume you have raised a child or two to adulthood, have a crop that is about ready for harvest, or are at least curious about the process. Raising people is a huge investment of time and money, and people rarely discuss what to do with the produce.

More and more parents these days are choosing to keep their adult offspring at home. My husband and I keep 2/3 of the yield (two individuals) in the basement, and and 1/3 of the yield (one individual) is located off-site at a safe but convenient distance as a designated survivor.

*Net Yield, 1989-2018. Estimated Value: Priceless

When planning your children’s education, it is important to consider their interests and aptitude, but also to take into account the family’s long term needs. Our children each hold at least one post-secondary degree, and two of them hold two or more degrees or certificates. Our off-site DS has been gaining skills in veterinary medicine and pet care, as well as floor installation, welding and assembly work. The youngest has been honing his virtual first-person urban combat skills for years, has experience as a tutor, furniture assembler, and bookkeeper. Our firstborn has worked in management, cooking, sales, and mechanics. When combined with the skills and experience my husband and I have accumulated over the years, we feel the family is well-positioned to survive an apocalyptic disaster. 

I’m kidding, of course. It’s completely true minus the calculation and paranoia. Our oldest and youngest live at home, and we love it that way. Some parents bemoan the kids who won’t leave; we installed high speed Internet service to lure them back. 

I’m not going to sugar coat it.  Parenting my adult children is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. I have to stand by and watch while they make decisions, and sometimes mistakes, that affect some of my favorite people in the world. Sometimes I’m consulted, sometimes I’m not, but I no longer get to call the shots. All illusions of control have been removed.

When the kids first went to college and  later their first jobs, I worried and my husband practically stalked them by monitoring their checking accounts. In the first few years there was a bootleg tattoo, a boyfriend procured from the Internet and kept past the return date, a bruised heart or two…

There were more tattoos. I don’t have anything against tattoos, but sometimes it’s hard to see my beautiful child cover her body with artwork that she may not want to wear for as many years as I pray for her to live. But in this I am not consulted, much less a decider. And that’s all right, I have my own body to decorate or pollute, or not. 

Later there was one seriously broken heart, two college dropouts, an unplanned pregnancy, an adoption, a frightening car wreck. Another wrecked car; not our kid, but her car.

The thing about painful experiences is that they can be excellent teachers to willing learners. My children are good learners. They are more cautious and less manic than I am, and they have taken life’s lessons thus far to heart. I’m very proud of them. 

You don’t quit being a mom or dad when your kid turns 18 or gets married or graduates college. But at some point along the way you quit being responsible for them and start becoming a trusted resource, and a friend. And one day you realize that your kid knows something you don’t know, or has a skill you don’t have, and is fun to talk to. And they become a trusted resource in their turn.  We can love without controlling, have boundaries without building walls.

No, Mom! I don’t want you to call my boss and ask him to give me a raise.

And if you’re blessed with kids who are emotionally intelligent and generous, and if you’re wise enough to be vulnerable with them, perhaps the day will come when you will have the privilege of having your child tell you something real about yourself. Maybe it will be painful, but actionable. But maybe it will be encouraging or consoling. Or just true. After all, who knows you better?

Do you have parents or grown children? I’d love to hear your stories your questions! Comment below and please ‘follow’ if you found this fun or helpful.

Family

Monday Morning Mistakes: Confessions and Takeaways

I didn’t sleep well last night. It wasn’t my usual insomnia, but several hours of nightmares fueled by this week’s binge of Homecoming on Amazon. I got up well before sunrise feeling distinctly unrefreshed, had some coffee and went to my office to work until I heard the guys start moving around, at which time I went to scare up some breakfast.

I don’t know why, but I feel I should explain that I did not jump up and make breakfast because I am the only woman in the house and it’s my job. I currently live with my husband, two grown sons, an uncle, and my dad, and we mostly share cooking and cleaning duties; not evenly, but fairly and according to ability and interest. I will post more about that later. The thing is, I was awake, they were waking up, and I felt like cooking them breakfast.

Also, I had a “great” idea for an omelet. We had some pickled eggs left over from the Thanksgiving relish tray, and I thought it would be kind of cool to make a pickled egg-filled omelet. Doesn’t that sound great? It doesn’t to me because I hate eggs, but I thought it at least sounded interesting, and maybe a bit meta.

So I Googled it. There were some recipes for omelets served with pickles and omelets with pickled turnips, but no pickled egg omelets. So I decided to wing it.

I whipped up a couple of eggs with a tablespoon or so of milk and poured it in a pan of hot olive oil. I chopped up a pickled egg, a bit of pickled pepper, added a bit of pickle juice… So far, so good. Right? Right??

brown chicken egg
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

I added the egg and pepper to the scramble, added some American cheese because I thought good cheese would be too salty, and let it cook. Topped with more cheese, served with buttered toast.

black spatula on black frying pan
Photo by Caio Resende on Pexels.com

My youngest and the most ardent fan of my cooking grabbed a fork and yelled, “Dad, are you gonna come try the vomit omelet?” He took a bite, and then another. And accepted my offer to make him a plate of scrambled eggs sans pickles.

My husband choked down the omelet. I don’t know whether it is because he hates to waste food or because he wants ammunition, but I’m certain it’s not because he fancied a pickle omelet.

My takeaways are twofold. 1) I should not try to invent new recipes when I am not well-rested,  and 2) If there is not a recipe for something on the Internet by now, there’s probably a good reason.