Stepping Back

When one of your adult children hits a rough patch, it can be tough to come up with the appropriate response .As a mother, it's so easy to want to jump in and shield your kids from any financial/emotional/physical discomfort that might come their way but how often should we? While Beverly Goldberg (the original Smother - if you're not watching The Goldbergs, this reference will mean nothing to you) would say always and forever, I'm coming to the painful realization that we're not doing our kids any favors when we make a habit of heading things off at the pass. (OMG. I am so old that I'm now quoting things that Edgar Buchanan would say in a John Wayne western).

What I'm struggling with is this: Does parental intervention really help our little darlings in any positive way? Are we just coming to the rescue to make ourselves feel better? And, more importantly, please tell me how to get a good night's sleep when I dig in and let one of them sink or swim without throwing them a line?

Money is especially tricky. If I have it and one of my kids doesn't, it seems like such a no-brainer to break out that check book. But what does that teach them? That it's okay to buy stuff they can't afford; that it's okay to shirk their responsibilities and risk ruining their good credit; that it's acceptable to expect to be bailed out when they've dug themselves into a giant hole? Not exactly a parental legacy worth carving into one's tombstone.

I guess it's all about common sense; possessing the ability to be more selective in the times and manner I offer my help. While I'm not quite the pushover (read enabler) that I used to be, I'm nowhere near the "you're an adult, it's time for you to figure it out" kind of gal that I aspire to.  When it's crunch time my kids undoubtedly know that I'll be there to lend a helping hand or offer words of advice (unless I'm cruising the Mediterranean) but I also want them to realize they have the strength and ability to fend for themselves.

They may never have to worry about sleeping under a cold, snowy bridge but they just might have to find out what the world is like without an iPhone.

The Circle Game

Joni Mitchell wrote a lot of great songs about life and love. One of my favorites was The Circle Game with lyrics extolling the joys and frustrations of living on Planet Earth for seventy or eighty years. If you're younger than I am (and who isn't?) you might not know (or in my case remember) the words:  And the seasons, they go round and round. And the painted ponies go up and down. We're captive on a carousel of time. We can't return, we can only look behind from where we came. And go round and round and round in the circle game. (Just writing those words makes me want to go dig out my copy of Ladies of the Canyon.)

I was thinking of that song yesterday when I helped host a baby shower for one of my closest friend's daughter. She (and the other two hostesses) have been three of God's greatest blessings in my life for more than thirty years. As I watched her daughter gleefully open all the gifts that would soon clothe/educate/amuse her little one, I couldn't help thinking about how quickly the time had gone. Had it really been twenty-something years since my friends and I were the ones waddling around in maternity cloths? Had it truly been more than two decades since I was putting the finishing touches on the cake for my friend's baby shower instead of the cupcakes for this one? Could that really be my own daughter sitting on the floor tending to her six-month old son?

I know. I know. Time marches on. Time waits for no (wo)man. Everyone tells you how fast it all goes by (even if they don't say it quite as eloquently as Ms. Mitchell) but nothing really prepares you for it. And even though I made sure to add some pearls of wisdom about savoring every moment of her parenthood journey in my message to the mommy-to-be, I know it won't do much good.

She won't really appreciate it until she's the one watching her own daughter open up those presents.

Tossin' My Cookies

When Matthew Perry was looking for something to do after his million dollar per episode stint on Friends was coming to an end, he starred in a cute movie that I loved and all the critics hated called Fools Rush In. He played an uptight architect who had a one night stand with fiery Selma Hayek and ended up falling in love with her after finding out they were going to be parents. It wasn't up for any Oscars that year but I thought it was a fun way to while away a couple of hours with a bucket of popcorn.

You may be wondering why I'm bringing up some obscure little romcom but something happened to me the other day that reminded me of one of the things Selma's character kept saying to Matthew's - that there were "signs" everywhere, if only we paid attention to them. Of course, Matthew thought she was loopy right up until the time he realized that she was "everything he never knew he always wanted". If you haven't guessed, I like sappy movies where the girl gets the guy and everybody lives happily ever after. So shoot me.

Back to the sign thing. What was mine, you ask? Well, I had succumbed to the lure of McDonald's drive-thru and ordered not only a burger and fries but a couple of chocolate chip cookies to boot. After polishing off my oh-so- nutritious dinner, I ran into Marshalls to return something, tossing my McDonald's bag into the trash can outside. It wasn't until I was deep into browsing through the clearance rack that I realized the horror of what I had just done - my yummy chocolate chip cookies were still in that bag, now on the bottom of an icy-cold garbage can.

After briefly considering a little discreet dumpster diving, I remembered what Selma said. This was a sign. It had to be. God did not want me to have those cookies. He knows that I've been trying to cut back on sugar and was doing his best to save me from myself by having my absent-minded brain throw out a bag containing two perfectly good (and possibly still warm) cookies. Now what? Was I going to bow to the wisdom and possible intervention of a higher power, taking the hint to go home and eat an apple instead? Or was I going to slink my way back to the nearest McDonalds to replace my poor fallen cookies?

What do you think?