Not So Fast

Last time I sat down to write one of these things, I was filled with optimism. That's what a good day will do for you. You see that light at the end of the tunnel, you slap on those sunglasses and head right for it. Too bad the little sucker's batteries die just as you get close enough to touch it.

It's tough to see your kids struggle. But it's even tougher to see them making the same mistakes over and over again. Stepping in only makes matters worse and butting out is impossible. Especially when they're sleeping down the hall. You're caught in that "no mans land" they talk about on the tennis court and no matter what you do, somebody ends up feeling lousy.

And until somebody turns that light back on, it's me.

See No Evil

I was watching the Olympics the other night (okay, every night) when the American men were trying to qualify for the team gymnastic final. Up in the crowd, with perfectly manicured fingernails placed directly over her eyes, was the mother of one of the participants. One of the cameras stayed on her as her son performed and when they replayed the footage, it turned out that the mom had never uncovered her eyes until she heard the crowd applauding. Hearing the all-clear signal, she knew it was safe to look and immediately started clapping wildly. She knew by the crowd's reaction that nothing terrible had happened, nothing terrible was going to happen. It was safe. For now.

Any mom can relate; we all know exactly what John Orozco's mom was going through. There are so many times we have to watch when our kids are in the middle of something that we know has a pretty good chance of ending badly. You want to help but you can't. You want to intervene but you shouldn't. You want to advise but . . . what the hell, you know they're not going to listen anyway.

So, we sit there like that mom in the stands with our hands half over our eyes, trying hard not to look until the danger has passed. But Mrs. Orozco had something we non-Olympic moms don't have.

She knew when it was safe to look.

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.