“Parents can only give good advice or put them on the right paths, but the final forming of a person’s character lies in their own hands.”
Anne Frank had it right. You can only give good advice and try to teach your children the path to walk down. While our children may inherit or mimic their parents actions, the one thing we have to remember is they are not us and will choose their own lives. But the “remembering” is not so easy and we often find ourselves with adult children who blow our minds with actions and decisions made that “we” would never do.
The first thing as a parent I have to consider as they are both adults, though still young, is sharing my wisdom (such as it is) and insights without being critical. I also have to now respect each of their differences. It’s truly a balancing act and I don’t know that I will ever have it down, but I do so try.
As I have a solid relationship with both of my daughters, I am and will be forever blessed. As they age, I’m learning they will (or is it still?) come to me if they need help during a “crisis” and that I need to keep clear of unsolicited advice. But the discernment from “crisis” to “chronic” is murky at best sometimes – especially if chronic things have escalated into a crisis.
For example: The ongoing struggle between my sun and moon daughters over cleaning their apartment is a chronic situation that often turns into a small crisis filled with yelling and bitching. But learning to live with others and respecting each other’s choices as adults is something they have to do which means I struggle not to interfere unless called upon by one or both parties. I offer the requested advice and a shoulder, but as young adults, they must learn how to deal with “difficult” people. And each of them finds the other difficult and they have for years.
Again – the whole issue is about respect. They need to respect each other despite their obvious differences. Yoda and I have worked hard to show respect to them and to each other as a model for our lives. They each have to learn they are not the other and will choose their own paths. If they can respect that and respect each other, I believe that at the end of the day, the sun and the moon can come together to create something truly beautiful.
The path we all follow is not easy. It is a lifetime of learning and growing. But in choosing to be a counsellor and friend to my adult children instead of their coach or referee is a better option. In the end, they will each have their own strengths and their own character to be passed down to the next generation.
And these children that you spit upon as they try to change their worlds are immune to your consultations. They’re quite aware of what they are going through.
It’s been a wicked-busy few days. Yoda and I left the Metroplex about 2230 hours and arrived “home” in Amarillo about 0430 on Saturday morning. Necessitating this midnight run was the pending arrival of my first grandson. Jess went into labor about 0700 Saturday… (after we got a combined grain of sleep from the Sandman…) Baby J finally decided to stop loitering in my daughter’s womb and made his appearance at 2256 hours Sunday night.
I find Squishy-Face (Baby J) incredibly cute and healthy; Jess is home recovering as well. She’s a little, sometime a lot, sore and has the energy of a sloth.
Frankly, I too could use some recovery time. I’m exhausted. From last Thursday when I woke at 0900 until I went to bed Monday morning at 0100, I got about 17 total hours of sleep. Jess and Baby J are worth it, but it seems like since then all I have done for days is run errands and I’m a wee bit on edge.
This brings me to:
I have been up since 0500 today. (I only woke because the bladder apparently contained the contents of Niagara Falls.) However, Yoda and I are bunking with my other daughter, my eldest, as well as Jess, Baby J and Ryan, J’s boyfriend. 5 adults in a 2 bedroom apartment. I wanted to put this into perspective because I’m feeling homicidal at the moment. Oh? Indeed.
Eldest has to work today. I’m sharing a room with her as she has an additional twin bed in her room. For the love of all that is pure and holy, there was almost a brutal killing as her alarm went off at the butt-crack of dawn and she hit snooze 85 times. Not only did I have to listen to the opening bars of a Taylor Swift nightmare, she apparently programmed several other alarms to wake her in case THAT failed. As I didn’t know what time she actually has to be at work, I didn’t know whether I should kill her or dump water on her.
The reassuring constant is misery loves company. I’m sure Jess didn’t sleep long or well either as a new baby tends to have that affect on new parents. God willing, we shall get some much needed rest before long and commiserate over breakfast and snuggles with the latest addition to the family.