Regrets . . I've Had a Bunch

I'm always amazed when I see some celebrity being interviewed who says they have no regrets. I have no idea how you get through life without having any of those pesky little creatures seeping into your thoughts as your head hits the pillow. When I was younger, I assumed those lucky people who were regret-free were a product of their charmed life. If you were rich, successful and/or famous, I had reasoned, how could you regret anything in the path that got you there. Now that I'm older and less stupid, I know that money and fame has nothing to do with it. To live a life with no regrets you must: a) be a fatalist who thinks everything happens for a reason, b) not give a flying you-know-what about the thoughts and feelings of anyone else on the planet, or c) not be a parent.

Looking in the rear view mirror at our life choices can be a dangerous hobby. Oh, sure, most of my regrets - "Why did I give away my original Beach Barbie?" or "What was I thinking when I got that haircut?" - don't end up keeping me up at night. I wince at the thought of not having a few extra bucks in our bank account or shudder at an old photograph but then I laugh and move on. Some others - "Why didn't I go to Arizona State when I had the chance?" or "Why didn't I take that entry-level job at the Washington Post?" - make me occasionally wonder about the road not taken but don't usually surface unless I see a picture of the ASU campus or stumble upon a late night showing of All the President's Men.

No. The only regrets that matter; the only ones that do end up invading my sleep are those that concern my parenting skills. "Why wasn't I tougher?" "Why didn't I follow through on consequences?" "Why did I bail my kids out of difficult situations as often as I did?" "Why didn't I "teach" instead of "do" more often than I did?" I could go on and on but I won't. I know it's a complete waste of time and accomplishes nothing. I could say I did the best that I could at the time but that wouldn't always be the truth. Sometimes I just did what was easiest or most convenient for me.

And maybe that's my biggest regret of all.

My Favorite Scorpio

I've done a few stupid things in my life - that perm in 1989, that night in New Orleans (does what happened in New Orleans, stay in New Orleans?), dating a guy who was a Civil War nut - but none of that matters. I had two amazing moments of glory that outshine all the dumb stuff I've done. I gave birth to two pretty terrific human beings. One of them turned 24 over the week-end and I've been reflecting on what it took to get him to the spot in which he's currently residing.

I'll be the first to admit that I have a lot of guilt about how I raised my kids. There weren't enough consequences and I didn't school them enough about the value of a dollar. I bailed them out too often and didn't let them learn anything the hard way. Funny thing is, at the time I thought I was doing those things. It's only now that I realize how much more I could have done if I would have let them hate me a little more often.

Now that my son is grown, I look back with a lot of regret. I wish I could turn back the clock and help him in ways that I didn't; I wish I could go back and encourage him in ways that would have helped him figure out who and what he wanted to be a little bit sooner. Maybe this is what happens to every mother when her kids leave the nest. Maybe we all doubt we've prepared them as well as we could have. Or maybe it's just me.

All I know is that he's another year older and so am I. As I baked him his favorite chocolate cupcakes, I could only wish for one thing - that the coming year would bring him happiness and bring him closer to getting all the good things in life he deserves.

He's on his way. And now he has wheels.

Regrets, I Have a Few

Once your children are grown, there's a lot of time to reflect on what kind of a parent you were. I always knew that I'd be good with all the baby and toddler stuff. And I was. My tough time came in adolescence and beyond. That's when it was important to be consistent and have logical, enforceable consequences and I wasn't very good at either of those.

Despite my shortcomings, my kids have turned out pretty well. They do remind me regularly that it's my fault that they don't know how to handle a lot of the "adult" challenges that are coming their way because I usually bailed them out of difficulties when they were younger. To this, I say "be thankful that the good times lasted as long as they did".

I was a child of the Sixties. My mom stayed at home and took care of everything. The most I had to do for myself was grab a bowl of cereal and occasionally make my bed. With a mother that was the epitome of the Betty Crocker housewife, there was little I could do that lived up to her standards so, like any smart teenager, I screwed up everything she asked me to do so that she would stop asking. And she did.  My kids didn't have it quite as easy but looking back, I wish I had been tougher about enforcing basic rules like cleaning their rooms, doing homework right after school and helping with after dinner clean-up. I just couldn't seem to stick to any of the chore/homework/reward plans I was continually dreaming up. The bottom line was punishment for them usually translated into punishment for me and, sooner rather than later, I let them off the hook.

But, you know what? I'm done apologizing. I loved my kids within an inch of their lives and that ought to count for something. Okay, I never made you cook us dinner - go buy a cookbook. Okay, I didn't make you do your own laundry - throw the red towel in with the white shirt and learn the way the rest of us did. Okay, I didn't get you a dog. Well, that one I really am sorry about but what I can do now? I know. As soon as they get real jobs, with a real place to live, I'll trek down to the shelter and pick out the cutest pup in the place. That way they can practice on a pet before they get around to raising my future grandchildren.

Maybe they'll make fewer mistakes than I did. But I'm not betting on it.