I really thought parenting would get easier as the boys got older. I figured they’d need me less, and I’d be glad to see them out in the world, doing their thing.
And some of that is true, but there is a whole lot of gray area in there where its just murky, and confusing, and as both Jake and Ty head to new colleges next Thursday (Jake to Chapman as a junior and a history major, and Ty to Occidental as a sophomore and music production major) I am struggling with the reality of….me.
I like having them home. I like feeding them (okay, being a short order cook every morning can get old, but I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t get something out of it). I like having a sense of purpose. I simply like them.
Helping them ‘launch’ has been bumpy and fraught with error. We’ve had numerous shifts and adjustments, and there have been a few more college transitions than I expected. I’ve doubted myself more times than I care to admit, but I never doubt them because it’s my job to keep the faith…for them, and myself. Faith is sometimes all I’ve had when we’re in the middle of another shoots and ladders moment that sends you sliding all the way back to start.
But that’s not the confession.
The confession is that I struggle in the letting go. I struggle as they leave, and I worry that my love for them, and my bond, is what has made it hard for them to go. I worry that my (over?) attachment hinders their emotional and psychological independence. I worry that I am simply too dependent on them for love, and friendship, and conversation.
Clearly I need to do more with women my age.
And possibly get some helpful therapy.
So this is where I am, and what I think about, when I’m supposed to be writing and accomplishing things. I don’t really accomplish as much as I used to…or do I, but its just a different kind of accomplishment?
So now you’re all caught up. Well, maybe not completely, because I’m going to start blogging again and just chat with you about real stuff and I hope you’ll feel like chatting back.