I can’t remember the conversation that we were having, or what prompted it at all, but I do remember my first yoga teacher sharing this poem with me and it has stuck with me ever since.  After carefully considering its deeper meanings in preparation for writing this post, I’ve concluded that I don’t actually struggle with many of the main ideas in this poem.   However, as a self-diagnosed empath, I do struggle with separating my children’s emotions and mental states from my own.  Essentially I am TOO empathetic and understanding.  So much so, that I begin to feel their emotions and take them on as my own.   Oof.  There are of course benefits to being an empath, however having this awareness as we move towards the teen years will certainly be critical to preserving my own sanity.  

Alas, I digress.  Back to the poem and the idea of your children being individuals, independent human beings that are separate from their parents.  I have never been the type of parent who laments their children getting older.  I am not wistful for the previous stages of their lives, wishing to go back in time.  In fact I am always excited and proud when they learn to do new things, become more independent, and grow as people.  Whether that be first steps, brushing their own teeth, learning to read, perfecting a new skill, or learning to navigate difficult social situations, it is always a sign to me that I’m doing my job.  I’m supporting them on their journey to becoming decent, productive, and kind human beings — at least that is the hope and goal.  

I also say this not having experienced the teenage years, so ask me again in about 5 years how I feel.  Maybe in the throes of all that angst and independence seeking I will longingly dream of the days when I could scoop them up and physically put them where I needed them to be.  The days when I could choose their friends because I was planning all of their play dates.  The days when I easily controlled all of their screen time (because they had no devices of their own) and didn’t worry about who or what they might find on the internet.  I sincerely doubt it though.  Truth be told, I had a three-nager who gave me sass from the very beginning and it really hasn’t ever stopped.  As we speak, the pre-teen attitude/hormones in our house are STRONG.  There’s eye rolling and door slamming, and stomping and screaming.  Testing boundaries and testing my limits.  The teen years are coming but I’m not that worried, and I don’t think I’ll look back and wish for “simpler times” because really, there are none.  We can only be in the here and now.  And we can only move forward.

Each new stage of my children’s lives has brought with it more freedoms and different challenges as  a parent.  Each new stage has brought a different joy in watching them succeed at new accomplishments.  Each new stage has been an opportunity to support their growth as individuals — separate from me.  And that is the point.  That is the long term goal.  I have no idea what lies ahead, but I do know that we have a solid foundation and I hope that it will withstand whatever challenges we may face as both kids continue to grow and change and make their way to adulthood.

I think I was brought back to this idea recently (of our children not being our children) due to all of the sporting events I’ve been attending this spring and summer.  I see it on social media, and I see it live in person at these events: parents who APPEAR to be living vicariously through their children.  Not just excited and proud about their children’s accomplishments, but SO invested in the entire ordeal that it has become a part of THEM.  A part of THEIR life.  Perhaps a part of their identity??  Maybe it’s because they did the same sport as a child so it’s more familiar to them (that is definitely not the case for me, and more on that to come in a future post!). Maybe it’s because they WISH they had done that sport as a child.  Maybe they are really just that excited FOR their child.  I don’t know.  What I do know, is that it’s just not me.

I am not a swim mom.  I am not a baseball mom, or a dance mom, or a soccer mom, or any other sports mom.  My kids like to swim.  My son likes to play baseball.  My daughter likes to dance.  These are THEIR activities.  Their hobbies.  Their passions and where they find joy.  I will fully support them and their interests.  One hundred percent.  But they aren’t MY passions or accomplishments.  And so, you probably won’t see me on the sidelines screaming and cheering with 200% of my energy .  I won’t be wearing the team colors and covering my car with bumper stickers and buying up all the team “swag.”  I won’t be signing up for extra volunteer slots.  But all of that doesn’t mean I’m not supporting my child or their team.  

You WILL see me watching intently.  You will see me make eye contact and wave at my child before they start their race or game to let them know I’m there for them.  You will see me hug or high five them when they are done.  You will hear me tell them I’m proud of them and that I liked how hard they were trying or how much effort they were putting in.  You will hear me ask them what their favorite part was.  You will hear me answering their questions (to the best of my ability) if THEY ASK how to improve.  You will hear me ask if they learned anything new and if they had fun or made a new friend. 

I will do these things, and in this way, because it’s not about me.  It’s about them and their interests and their lives.  I can encourage them and guide them, but in the end, they have to willingly participate.  I can’t force them to dive in the water and swim across the pool.  I am not on the baseball team, and I certainly can’t dance.  They aren’t toddlers anymore that I can just pick up and physically move to where I need them to be.  They are individuals making choices and doing activities that I hope they enjoy.  I hope they are learning from THEIR experiences and creating memories to take with them on THEIR journey, because in the end, my children really are not MY children.