I am a really lucky mom. I have two amazing sons who have lived through a life trauma with
me, and as we heal, we have developed a really amazing friendship that complements our parent-child relationship. We lost my husband, their father, four years ago as my oldest was starting college and my youngest was starting his sophomore year of high school. It was the darkest, most difficult time in our lives, and we all struggled to find our way forward, individually and as a family.
I started therapy and made it available to both of my children during this time. They both chose to speak to trusted adult mentors instead, and I am beyond grateful for the amazing village that has and continues to support my kids. It is in this dark time that we began to morph into a team that blends friendship and responsibility with the normal mother-son relationship.
My house often resembles a pirate ship. There is swearing, some haphazard dressing, and we are often one argument away from a full-blown mutiny.
After their father’s loss, my kids had to shoulder more responsibility
Because of the shift in our home, my children had to take on more responsibility. I wanted to take on the role of a supreme parent, but emotionally and physically, I couldn’t do it all. It didn’t happen through some organized sit-down conversation; it just evolved in our new day-to-day interactions.
I am still the mom, and at the end of the day, in my home, my rules are what go, but I do take into consideration my children’s opinions, and their lived experiences when I make decisions that will impact them. Throughout our time together as a family of three, one theme has dominated our lives. Owning our own lives and living in every minute. It is the ‘silver lining’ of our terrible loss. My youngest son (19) just hit the 200-mile mark on his Appalachian Trail through hike this summer.
All of the big accomplishments in my kids’ lives somehow earned me congratulations
When I dropped him off in Georgia, I reminded him to live in every moment while I tearfully left him to hike 2190 miles on his own. I have kept a running commentary on Facebook for my family and friends. I posted a picture he shared (with his permission) online, and once again I was surprised by the response I received from my family and friends.
They congratulated me on his accomplishment. This happened when both of my children got into the university of their choice. It happened when my oldest (22) switched gears and found his footing working full-time and attending school locally instead of staying on a university path that wasn’t right for him. I heard “congratulations, Mom!” when my youngest ran his first marathon.
All of these big accomplishments in their life somehow earned me congratulations. It does not sit well with me; it goes against owning their own lives. I understand it is a social grace, but in my mind, it is a weird one and needs to be re-evaluated. I always respond the same way – “I didn’t do it–this is all him, I am just the cheering section.”
I love to celebrate my kids but their accomplishments belong to them
I encourage my friends to reach out to my boys themselves. It means the world to my sons when an adult in their life compliments them on their achievements. I take my role as the cheering section seriously. I am their biggest cheerleader and I do my damnedest to show up for my kids, sometimes I am more successful than others, I think that is the verb part of the word parent. I love to celebrate with them, but their accomplishments do not belong to me.
If I get to take credit for their accomplishments, that means I have to accept blame for their shortcomings, and I am not doing that either. When my youngest missed a college application deadline, my first impulse was to race in and try to fix it, then I was angry, then I felt guilty. I took a deep breath, sat with being uncomfortable in the moment, and let his failure belong to him.
My kids’ failures belong to them also
When my oldest was placed on academic probation at the end of his freshman year of college, I wanted to rush in and force him to take summer school, to make the probation go away as soon as possible. Still, again, I sat with the discomfort and let his failure be his. I showed up for my kids in those moments by letting them move through those moments and own those feelings.
I didn’t say my normal “I didn’t do it- this is all him,” but I did live it, and I let them own their own lives. Living in every moment isn’t only for travel and adventure; it is a mantra for success, failure, and growth.
My kids are successful, and they have goals and drive that is entirely their own. I am often asked how I got my kids to be the way they are, and the short answer is: I didn’t. As their
mother, through experience, I learned to respect my eldest’s social battery, and how not to trigger my youngest’s perfectionism.
I listened to them talk through things when they asked me to. I offered advice when asked, but I did not do anything specific to make my kids driven and goal-oriented; they just are, maybe it comes naturally.
I let my kids have their own lives and encourage them to live in the moment
My husband and I both worked hard and strived to be better versions of ourselves, so suppose we were role models in this respect. The one thing I have done continuously for my kids is let them own their own lives and encouraged them to live in every moment, celebratory or difficult.
It is easy to share in their celebrations.
Their failures are a lot harder.
It is my responsibility as a mom to teach my boys that I have their back, but I am not their “get out of jail free card.” I cannot rescue them from the hardest and most important things in their lives. I can love them and support them, but I cannot change things. I have consciously decided to let them learn this.
They fully own their accomplishments and sit with the discomfort and consequences of their failures. We have talked about this repeatedly as a family, and both boys have expressed gratitude that I allow them to walk their own paths and make their own choices.
They have even spoken to me about allowing them to be uncomfortable instead of rescuing them, and those conversations often end with a lesson they learned and a thank you. It has been a hard-learned lesson, born of grief, and a changing relationship with my kids, but it is absolutely worth it.
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