Teen mom no more

After nearly 15 years of being the mother of a teenager, that chapter of my life quietly drew to a close earlier this month. Well, it was quiet for me. Since my son celebrated with friends in Oneonta, I can’t attest to the level of volume he actually experienced, but I imagine it was a bit greater than my own.

Ending the teenager years is a relief, even though I know that the role of raising children will probably never truly end. Parenting is forever, if you’re lucky, isn’t it?

Over the years of being a mother, I’ve learned, and come to accept, that each stage of parenting comes with new challenges. Yes, there are things that most certainly become easier, but it is a position that is constantly changing.

Trying to find the balance between guidance, gentle and otherwise, and respecting their autonomy is a constantly shifting line in the sand. Honestly, figuring out what it is that they need and trying to provide it to them has been the hardest job I’ve ever known.  

I’ve found myself to be a parent who is inclined to speak to my children quite directly. Sharing with them my concern that too many things have come to them too easily and that I’m worried that they won’t know how to manage challenges or telling them the unfairness they perceive to be present when they’re being held to a standard others are not and how that should not be a factor in their own adherence to rules, has not been well received.

I don’t regret it, though.

I do, however, regret not playing with them more. I wish I had truly understood how quickly they would grow from baby faced to bearded.

If there were a time I could revisit, it would be the summers of their childhoods, playing in the sand at the beach and dashing into the waves with their hands in mine. As for those teen years, my nostalgia for them is yet to come. At the moment, I’m just happy we all survived them.