I found my favorite description of parenting in a novel I read a few years ago. The author’s definition of what it means to raise kids to adulthood was perfect.
The story’s main character pictures herself in a theatre and explains that when your child is very young, you are in the prompter’s box, located in the orchestra pit, directing the play. Then you move to the first few rows of seats and become a prominent member of the audience. Eventually, you end up on the balcony, where you can observe the play but are less involved in the actual production.
That’s me today. After devoting decades to raising five children, always prioritizing their needs over mine, I’m now in those upper rows watching their lives play out. I miss the years of living in the controlled chaos of our large family and yearn to stay relevant.
At 18, they still needed me
As each one headed out the door to college, I cried buckets of tears and wondered what this next chapter would look like for all of us. They called often during those first few weeks on their own. They asked things like “How do I make boxed mac and cheese?” or “How do I kill the cockroaches in my shower?” and “What should I take for a cold?”
The more comfortable they became away from home, the fewer times they checked in, so I was thrilled each time the phone rang. I spoke with my oldest almost every day. After an unproductive semester in college, he moved across the country. He gave me three days’ notice before departing, but I didn’t try to stop him. I’d done the same thing when I was 19, and honestly, it was the best decision both he and I ever made.
As he began exploring life as a newly formed adult, he still yearned for a tether to me, his mom. We had some of the best conversations during his early years away from home. We were two grown-ups comparing life experiences, expressing opinions, and truly getting to know each other on a whole new level. On the morning he called to tell me someone had thrown a rock through the window of his ground-floor apartment, he was my little boy again. I wanted to comfort him with more than words, but I felt helpless 3,000 miles away. He recovered from the shock and fright, and when he moved to another apartment, I flew out to help him settle in.
In their 20s, they didn’t need me as much
My world started to feel very narrow as theirs broadened after college graduation. I was proud of all they were achieving on their own. Of course, I took credit for raising these independent, successful adults, but now that they no longer needed me, I wondered if they still wanted me.
None of my children has a relationship with their father. It was easy for them to disconnect from him, but was that going to happen to me, too? Not if I could help it.
When four of the five relocated to the West Coast, I decided to follow. In my ideal world, we’d all live within walking distance of each other.
When I arrived in California, my kids were thrilled to see me. After helping me unpack, one son said, “I’m taking you to brunch. A guy just needs to spend time with his mother.”
But even in proximity, it wasn’t the same. I was no longer the queen of their universe.
Their relationships make me relevant
Each of them is in a committed relationship; two are married. It’s an unwritten rule that when they get serious, it is my child who gives their partner my contact information. That’s a defining moment for all of us as these significant others begin to build a connection with me. And they are the ones who are making me relevant in my children’s lives today.
Many of our text chain conversations, get-togethers, and family events begin with them. Often, I bypass my own sons, who are frequently unresponsive, and text the wives and girlfriends directly. They always answer. Now they’re connecting me with their mothers, and we’re creating an ever-widening circle.
I may never be as relevant to my children now as I was when they were young, but they know I’m always available, sitting in the upper level of the balcony, enjoying the play.
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