I am officially a parent of adults. Plural.
The things you think about when your children aren't children anymore.
I have often sent my children out the door yelling, “Have fun storming the castle!”
Or sometimes I say, “Have a great time tonight! Be safe! Make good choices!”
I’ve always thought of this as my core job: To keep my children happy and healthy and safe, of course — but also to grow them into adults who make good choices. Even and especially when I’m not around.
This weekend, my youngest daughter turned 18.
An adult.
I am now officially a parent of adults. Plural. Which is a whole thing.
My children can get more ear piercings without permission.
My children can get a non-driver’s ID without my signature. (Shout-out to city kids.)
My children can get the “I voted” sticker instead of the “Future voter” sticker.
My children aren’t even children, technically, which reminds me that once again our language is woefully insufficient for relationships and modern families.
(Plus, my stepdaughter is still on the edge of 16 so I can’t be called an empty-nester either.)
Over the past few days, I’ve found myself reflecting on every choice I’ve made, my mind jump-cutting through less-than-stellar parenting moments like a clip episode ushering in a show’s twentieth season.
CUT I’m losing my patience. CUT I’m speaking before listening. CUT I’m betraying a secret. CUT I’m using a phrase they don’t like then getting defensive about it. CUT I’m in bed before tucking them in. CUT I’m not going in the pool with them because I hate how I look in a swimsuit. CUT I’m not giving them the benefit of the doubt when they’ve earned it. CUT I’m saying no when I should have said yes. CUT I’m saying yes when I should have said God no.
This show could go on forever, but I’d lose the audience before the second commercial break.
I keep thinking about all the times a well-intended parent told me “The days are long but the years are short,” and I rolled my eyes, wanting that particular long-ass day to be over. Or all the times someone told me “You’ll look back at these moments and miss them!” while I was neck-deep in two jobs, stressed about money, exhausted as hell, and passing off cereal for dinner as a special treat.
And now, here I am, thinking about those short years and the moments hidden in those long days that I’ll surely miss.
I know I haven’t done everything right. But I hope I’ve done everything right enough that my kids can make those good choices that life requires.
To choose who to kiss at a party or what to do with that last $23 in the bank account until the next paycheck.
To choose to pull a friend aside, take a deep breath, and tell them you’re a little concerned about them, and is there anything you can do to help?
To choose between self-preservation and a non-zero risk.
To choose to read the fine print before signing the contract.
To choose to give back all the cash in the wallet found in the taxi.
To choose to stand up for what is right and call out what is wrong — and to accept the consequences of those actions, should there be any.
To choose kindness.
To choose empathy.
To choose to prioritize their own well-being.
To choose to do what’s right and not necessarily what’s easy.
To choose to call me — maybe just once in a while — instead of sending a text. And if they do send a text, to use a capital letters and punctuation and spell out the words YOU and ARE. Not all the time, just sometimes! So I know they are capable of it!
That’s not unreasonable, right?
A parent of adults. Plural.
Phew.
I didn’t do it all, and I didn’t do it all perfectly every time. But I look at these amazing kids of mine, and I think I’ve done okay.
One final thing:
My oldest daughter Thalia has a small part in her first feature! Jillian Bell’s Summer of 69 is streaming on Hulu at #1 with a 96% fresh rating on Rotten Tomatoes. (Let’s gooooo!) It’s a hilarious and sweet throwback to the teen sex comedies of the 80s/90s but far less problematic. You’ll see her in the big final scene as Gamer Stacey.
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Mine just turned 29, which means next year she'll be 30, which means she truly is a grown-up adult, which is something I still have to remind myself when she is just living her life on her own like a grown-up adult. I wish I could say you will some day stop worrying about them, but that still hasn't happened here. But the pride is real, and I know 10 years from now, you will still be able to feel proud of them.
This resonated with me. I only have one child who is finishing up his Master’s degree, talking about marriage with his (fabulous) girlfriend, not too far from fully launching himself as a completely independent adult in the world. I wonder all the time if I’ve prepared him well enough for his life. As an aside, when he was little and I was tucking him into bed every night, I would do “push-ups” over him, kissing him every time I lowered myself over him. I would do at least a dozen every night (and more if he’s let me) because, I told him, I needed him to have enough kisses from his mother to last his entire life. I definitely gave him every bit of love I could and hopefully that will help carry him through the tough times in life.