Just about every day, someone asks me for advice. Often it’s a question about parenting, something I have been practicing for decades as the mother of five.
Friends, colleagues, and mothers at the beginning of their parenting journey want to know how I dealt with a myriad of concerns, everything from toilet training to sex education. I’m always more than willing to share, and I often do, even when it’s unsolicited.
But there’s one group I hesitate to advise, my own children. Unless they ask for it, I do not offer any guidance.
My children don’t want my advice
It’s not that I don’t give good advice. I do. I’m actually pretty thoughtful with my suggestions. I always present them with sensitivity, making sure what I say is age and situation-appropriate. The problem is I don’t always wait to be asked. I tend to dive right in.
That doesn’t work with my kids, which became abundantly clear on their first Christmas home after a semester at college.
After three months of living independently, my three oldest sons returned home for our first adult version of the holiday celebration. We hung their childhood ornaments on the tree and prepared our traditional menu of favorite foods, but once the gifts were unwrapped, I saw how they were changing.
Each one had found their voice and was maturing into a unique individual. They’d come home with new assessments on life. Rather than engage in nostalgic reminiscences, they wanted to express their opinions on their broadening worldviews. Nothing Mom could say would be as valuable as what they were discovering.
I always expected them to become independent thinkers
These newly minted adults were actually living up to an expectation I’d set for them based on my personal definition of parenting — taking a totally dependent being and making them independent.
My first visit home from college was not that different. I remember how impassioned I was as I explained to my mother the newfound philosophy my dormmates and I were forging in late-night gab sessions. I doubt I was committed to what I was espousing, but I was fervent in my argument, and nothing my mother might say would dissuade me from my beliefs.
Sometimes they do want to know what mom thinks
I live for the moments when my kids do seek my advice.
Most often, it relates to health, especially as they age and develop the ailments common to all our family members. Sometimes it’s about work, like when my oldest asked what he should charge for an hourly rate. Occasionally, one might ask about money, like how to pay off their college loans. Rarely is it about love and relationships. When one son was madly infatuated with a girl who wouldn’t give him the time of day, he pressed me for ideas about how to pursue her. I had none and recommended he seek love elsewhere, which he eventually did.
Ironically, my one son, who’s a dad, rarely asks me about how to raise his kids. They’re doing a great job thanks to all they’re learning through Instagram and TikTok, pretty effective tools I never had.
Just because they’re uninterested in my advice does not mean the flow of information has ceased. Today, I’m suggesting the books to read or the latest Netflix series to watch, and they’re the ones advising me. I look to them for wisdom on where to invest my money. It’s me who wants to know what kind of car to buy. Of course, I ask them about all things tech, but also what exercise regime to follow, and even what professional opportunities to pursue.
Their life experiences are now informing my decisions. It’s a full circle moment that keeps us growing in wisdom and knowledge we can then share with others who might ask.
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