I always knew I wanted to be a mom. If you had asked me when I was five what I wanted to be when I grew up, I would have said “a mom.” Even into my teens, I thought six children would be a great size family. I didn’t really see myself as a wife in this fantasy. But as luck would have it, I ended up meeting someone at the end of college and pretty quickly knew that this was my person.
Even before we talked about marriage, my now husband knew that having children was a must for me. I wisely did not share my thoughts on how many (six kids?!) other than more than one. At this point I also was pursuing a degree and then a career in advertising. Even though I wanted to be a mom, I saw myself as a working mom.
My husband and I were married for five years before we had our first child. Our daughter was planned and as the first grandchild in my family, much anticipated. We had all the drama of the first baby with the harsh wake-up call of becoming responsible for a tiny human who depends on you for their every need. We thought life was hard with one baby.
We hadn’t even begun to understand “hard.”
Before we knew it, we had three kids: a 4 year old, 2 year old and a newborn with colic and reflux. My husband’s job transferred us to Florida and I became a full-time stay-at-home mom with a husband who traveled non-stop. I was sure life could not get any more challenging than it was right then.
Again- I was sooo wrong.
The next ten years are honestly are a blur. The youngest finally got over his colic evolving into a wild child with no fear and a penchant for screaming all of his feelings. But sadist that I am, as soon as that youngest son started to settle down (thank you day care), I convinced my husband that we needed just one more child to complete our family. He agreed, as he always does with anything he thinks I want, and a year later we had our final baby.
Fast forward another ten years- present day.
My husband and I have been married for 29 years. And I have to say, despite being parents, we are very happy and even more devoted to each other than we were on our wedding day. Our four off-spring are in various stages of life. The 24 year old and 22 year old are out of the house, working and independent. The 19 year old is in his second year of college and the 16 year old is a sophomore in high school. You would think that we are “seeing the light at the end of the tunnel” of parenthood. I’m here to tell you there is no end of the tunnel and certainly no light.
There is no finish line.
There is absolutely no point where you can say “There. Job well done. Thank you and I’ll move on to the next phase of my life.” (My husband refuses to acknowledge this, he’s just over there planning his retirement in a far off land.)
My original benchmarks for successful parenting were: by the time the kids were adults (18 or graduating from college) they would be happy & healthy, with no addictions or criminal records. Honestly- in the beginning I thought the early stage of keeping everyone safe, clean, fed and not lost at the grocery store was going to be the hardest part of parenthood. So I kept my expectations reasonable. If I could make it beyond diapers and car seats- the rest would be smooth sailing.
But as the years went on, I added to that list…
I would also like my children to not knock their teeth out. Or damage their brains or break their bodies with their sports, dare devil play and all around sense that they are invincible. To survive middle school without crippling depression or anxiety. I hoped they would resist the temptation to express themselves with weird piercings or tattoos. Eventually they should be employed in a job that supports the life they want and contributes to society in a positive way (no Bernie Madoffs). And I wanted them to find a partner to share their life with- a person who really likes our family and encourages visits home. The bar was higher for sure, but I was committed and determined more than ever to accomplish my goals. Raising these kids was now my “career”, my sole occupation and the measure of my success. And by this time my husband and I were seasoned parents. I had confidence that by the time we came to the end of our parenting phase, our children would be fully formed adults ready to launch into the world. I looked forward to the day my husband & I could then sit back carefree and enjoy the rewards (ie grandchildren) of our past parenting success.
I can tell you now, as the parent of two “launched” adults- there is no end.
One thing older, more experienced parents do not share with you when you’re contemplating parenthood, is that in many ways parenting just gets harder when your children grow into adults. They change into these people with their own goals and their own plans. But you do not change. You’re still mom… with the same list of hopes and dreams for your kids. And you are absolutely sure that your children still need and should follow your advice. Because after all, you’ve been doing this adulting for quite a while now. But these kids are now adults- free to do whatever they want, with whomever they want, whenever they want.
Drop out of college? Sigh- yes.
Get a tattoo of their favorite football team? Yep.
Buy a new car for full sticker price without any savings? You bet.
Date the cute guy with no future from the forgot-the-name bar? Sure.
Move into a house and no one knows what “utilities” even means? Why not.
Having adult children is the most maddening, exhausting, bang your head against the wall, cry and count the new wrinkles on your face experience you will ever endure.
Don’t let your friend’s Instagrams full of “my kid is rocking the world” photos fool you. If they have adult children, they’re suffering just like you. I often think fondly of the time when all I had to do was change my kid’s diapers and provide food to keep them happy and healthy. If only I could strap them into that car seat and carry them around with me everywhere. I long for playdates that were chosen and overseen by me. When they cried because I (their favorite person in the universe) was leaving them at preschool. Heck, I even miss hours upon hours of watching them run up and down fields with various balls heading into various nets. And give me a sullen teenager locked in their room over a grown son that turned off Life360 and doesn’t call for weeks.
I nearly have a heart attack if one of the kids actually calls on the phone.
It must be an emergency because texting is their preferred form of communicating with me. I have to threaten and bribe my sons to go to the dentist. I’ll cancel plans with anyone if one of my kids wants to come home for a meal. And when they do need help…”Mom, do you think I need to go to the emergency room for ——? Why is the water at my house not working? Do I need to pay these tolls? Will my new job pay my car insurance? Can I move home for a month? Can I pay you back for ___? What’s the Amazon password?”- I drop everything to solve their problems night or day. Sometimes I think they take pity on me, throwing me a bone with a fake question to make me feel needed. Sadly I appreciate this and consider it a sign of a good upbringing.
So here I sit, writing a blog because I’ve challenged myself to make the most of this second half of life and try new things. And I need something to keep my mind from worrying constantly about those adult children of mine… “Will they come home for Christmas? Are they happy? Do they have enough money? Will they ever find a career? Are they brushing their teeth? Is so-and-so right for them? Will these sleepless nights questioning my kid’s life choices ever end?” Because my children may be growing into adults, but I’ll never grow out of being their mom.
-Rebecca