This is not what I expected

give me all the three year-old problems

I loved having toddlers, which is fortunate because I had them for about twenty years. I think toddlers are the funniest, wisest, cutest people on the planet. Don’t get me wrong I love newborns too and if you are tired and need a rest I will happily come hold your newborn and then I will cook you dinner, I’m at that stage of life. I miss having little people around and I probably romanticize those years a little bit.

I do remember sleepless nights and tantrums and refusing to eat and trying to get out of the house with everyone wearing shoes that matched which didn’t always happen. There is some kind of Murphy’s Law about a kid wearing mismatched shoes and mom not noticing it but only if you are going to church or someplace where matched shoes might be a big deal. No one ever shows up in mismatched shoes at the playground or the neighborhood grocery store. Why is that?

Anyway.

I did spend some time wishing my life away, as one does when surrounded by babies and toddlers. You know, “I can’t wait until they can all buckle themselves in,” or “I can’t wait until I’ve wiped the last tush,” stuff like that. Perfectly normal and there were some sighs of relief when the last one left his diapers behind, seventeen years is a long time to change diapers. By and large I loved it, but it was hard and I thought once they are all grown up it will be so easy.

Ha. What an idiot.

I’d trade a truculent, training toddler in for a heartbroken seventeen year-old any day.

There are a ton of books to help you through those early years of mothering, people give classes, there are moms groups and many other resources available to help you negotiate the trials and tribulations of raising young children.

What about when you are parenting adults? Yes, you are still a parent when they graduate high school, turn eighteen and leave your home for a while. You are still their parent when they come home for summers, you are still their parent when they move in after college to catch up on their finances, find a job, start their “adult” life.

So now you are living in a house with a bunch of adults, semi-adults, and almost adults, who all have their own schedules, ways of doing things, and opinions. I gave them their opinions when they were six but then I insisted they be independent thinkers so that has not always worked out as well as I had hoped.

The upside is that they are nice people and I love them very much. The downside is that it’s somehow more crowded and we need to tread carefully. Their privacy and independence must be respected, but my tendency to worry must be treated with courtesy and respect. I see all of the fun things and the successes, but also every disappointment and setback and my advice and opinions are not always welcome and are rarely solicited.

Holding back when you want to say “Don’t do that, I did that and it was a terrible mistake,” or “I can see some consequences here you might not be thinking of” is enough to make your ears bleed, but hold back you must.

Tread lightly, whisper softly, pray mightily.

I had no idea this would be so hard, wonderful but hard. These years of parenting are stretching me even more than those sleepless, baby burp, always running after a two-year-old years. And I’m old now and less stretchy than I used to be.

I think there needs to be more conversations and support about this stage of life. Parenting but not parenting, loving them so fiercely but standing back so as not to smother and about a million other things.