Yeah. I know. I haven't updated this blog in months. I don't have an excuse. I just didn't do it. I fell out of the habit. Or maybe I got bored. (I have a short attention span.)In the meantime, I reached a milestone in my life. Please note the self-centered nature of that statement. The Monkey Prince turned 18. But this is not about him. Well, it is to a degree. It would have to be. But it's more about how I feel about the whole situation and how he got to be the wonderful young adult that he is.
As you can see from the photo of the Princeling and his beautiful girlfriend, he's very grown up. They went to her Soph Hop a couple of weeks ago, a prelude to the senior prom which is soon to be upon us. Aren't they adorable? I certainly think so!
On the morning of my son's birthday, he wandered into the kitchen with a bright expression on his face. Well, perhaps not bright-eyed. He had just awakened and rolled out of bed, afterall. But he had a happy, bleary look about him. I jumped up and down and hugged him, and he actually laughed at me as I giddily crowed, "You're 18! You're 18! I'm so happy for you! How exciting! Now you really get to take responsibility!" Then I added, "I'm done! I'm done! From now on, everything comes back to YOU!" I felt such a feeling of liberation! It's fairly indescribable, but it was as if a weight was lifted from my chest and shoulders. I could breathe!
O.K. I know there are many of you who are tsk-tsk-ing at me and saying to your computer screens, "Poor misguided mother. You think you are done? Ha! You're never done." Well, yes, of course that's true. But I no longer cling. I cut the apron strings with a large ceremonial axe on April 13, 2006 at 6:58, the precise moment of the 18th anniversary of his birth. And I'm not kidding you or myself about that.
You see, I'm a bit unusual. I've finally come to realize that. Once, as I was jawing at my husband about the assinine decision-making of a fellow mother, my husband stopped me in my tracks with a simple statement. He said, "All mothers do that." And then he said, "Do you have any idea how different you are?" He said it with just a trace of affection. Or maybe it was 20 years of weariness? But he was right. I'm really different; not from every mother, but from most. I think I walk the very, very fine line between uncaring neglect and the Blessed Mother, herself. (You may not believe it, but there IS a fine line.)
Let me give a few examples by listing some of my parenting philosophies.
On fighting children: I do not intervene unless there is bloodshed, and the bloodshed must be of a significant amount to either warrant a trip to the emergency room and/or stain my carpeting.
On feeding children: Parents are legally required to provide food to their children. We are not, however, required to cook it for them. Teach them to cook. Especially the boys. There was a time when a man could expect to marry a sweet young thing who would stay home and cook for him, perhaps even make an evening martini and place it in his hand as he walked through the door at the end of a long day at the office. I don't think there are a lot of cooking/bartending women being raised these days, so I taught my boys to cook.
On backtalk: It's not allowed. I'm serious. If you think this rule is impossible, then you have a big problem. It sets the tone for your entire household. Children are not small adults. They don't know what they are doing yet. That's why they are called children and they are not called adults. They don't get to mouth off and tell parents what to do.
On manners: Children must have them. "Please." "Thank you." Introductions, hand shakes, making eye contact. All of the general manner issues apply. There should be nothing controversial in this. So why have so few children mastered the basic rules of conduct in society? I'll tell you why. Self-absorbed parents raising self-absorbed children. This is a subject for another blog.
On responsibility: Give children age appropriate responsibility, and allow them to suffer the consequences if the responsibility is not met. If the consequences involve the health and safety of the child and or other people, then the responsibility is not age appropriate; and therefore is the parent's responsibility.
On dating: We subscribe to the "Rule of 16". No one-on-one, out-by-yourselves, unsupervised dating until the age of 16. Admittedly, this is a harder rule to enforce if you are raising girls. I haven't raised female children, but I was once a boy-crazy girl, and I have friends with boy-crazy girls. Even today, girls are still deriving a feeling of self-worth from boyfriends. I think that's wrong. I think 16 is reasonable.
On "picking and choosing" your fights: Oy! This concept irritates me. It should be called, "picking and choosing what your children get away with". I'm the parent. Whatever I choose is worth fighting for. Lots of parents will just roll over and play dead as their poorly mannered, self-absorbed, backtalking child argues with them. No. That's wrong. It makes your child more poorly mannered, more self-absorbed, and more disrespectful.
So how does this all relate to my feeling of lightness and to my happiness at being the parent of an adult? Because all those opinions I listed above were not at all uncommon just two short generations ago. Today I'm "different", as my husband calls me. But my old-fashioned parenting has resulted in a fine young man who I trust to make good decisions. Of course he still has a long way to go, but his life is completely in his hands now. I will always be here for him, to offer advice when asked. But it's his time now, and it's so very exciting to see him at this point. He's confident, well mannered, and charming. He knows what he wants and he's prepared to work for it. He cares and respects other people. His father and I get to pat each other on the back for a job well done. Kong and I can continue to provide no-cost housing in the form of a small bedroom and shaky loft bed to the Princeling. We can choose to throw some financial assistance his way now and then, too. But by and large, we're done. And having completed the phase of legal responsibility as parents, I feel entitled to my opinions.
