Parenting… until they leave us

Recently, it’s been quite evident that my children are growing up. Yes, yes, don’t laugh like that. Children grow up from the moment you birth them, I get it. However, children being in high school gives you a true and definitive timeline. Five years. That’s it. From Grade 8–12, you have five years more of childhood in which to parent from the front of the car, the side of a sports field, the door of a bedroom and across the dinner table. After that, you are an advisor more than anything, I assume, spouting words of wisdom and ‘in my days’.

So how does one absorb everything there is to absorb, in these next five years, with joy and appreciation for the pleasure of parenting? I have no idea, to be honest. Based on the major blanks in my memory of parenting my small children, I fear that I will only be truly wiser once this time has passed. That said, I would like to redeem myself, a little, and try and learn from earlier parenting fails and perhaps more than stand on a soap box of certainty as to how to be present and profound in these next few years, perhaps I can create a wish list of how I would like to parent. Then in five years, review my dream and check in how I’ve done. Great plan! So here is the dream:

I will be support crew

Since my children were born, I have thoroughly enjoyed going to work. Sounds odd, but I love having a half-life. Half at work, half at home. It is never truly 50:50, but the idea works for me. My work gives me purpose outside of family (because I am someone who needs that, and no that’s not a judgement on anyone else — it’s a me thing). Across various business roles and clients, I have always tried my best to fetch the children and spend most afternoons at home. This definitely does not mean that I play games gleefully with the kids or anything like that. I often work whilst they do homework and it’s more like cohabiting than honest parental involvement (hush now with the judgement!). Anyway, it is my belief that being around, fetching and carrying (not the boarding school child — shame, he is on his own), being on the sideline, making the afternoon lunch that is eaten hungrily in the car to the next sporting activity is important. I joke that I’m the uber in my little blue car. And I am. This is something I will continue to do until they leave me and don’t need my uber services. Although, I may still appear, like a creepy stalker, at their university sports events (if they end up doing that stuff), shouting for them (read: shouting at them when they miss the shot). It feels good to have a support crew, to know someone has your back. I like to think that if I can be at most events and activities, it will be good for them and good for me too. I want to remember this.

I will allow their personal taste to develop (under my guidance)

Clothes really are a big deal when you’re a teen. There is an inner battle of desperately wanting to fit in whilst at the same time trying to forge your own unique mark and statement. Unfortunately, the two don’t usually meet in some nirvana-like middle zone. Teens either stick out or they blend in. It’s tough and one of the many reasons most of us never want to be under 19 EVER again. I recall desperately wanting a pair of Doc Martins in the 90’s. They were massive and grungy and said you were angry and wanted to kick something, hard. My parents owned children’s shoe stores, not the kind that had Docs on their shelves. Needless to say, I was never going to get those Docs. I still fantasize about owning a pair. The point is this, my mother does truly have excellent taste in clothes, and in her opinion, Docs were brutally ugly (she is not completely wrong from a design perspective). She couldn’t accept they were very cool and a representation of how I felt and what I identified with in terms of people and music. She looked at shoe as a shoe, not as a statement, and a part of me feels like I didn’t have the opportunity to be a little bit grungy when I needed to be. So, I am going to aim to allow my kids to express themselves through their clothes, as long as most of their jiggly bits are covered.

I will talk about sex and periods

Back when I grew up, only a few parents actually told their children about sex and all that goes with it. Most of us cobbled it together from other kids with older siblings, along with some sex education at school (which was done in a class of boys and girls together). Without the internet, or much else to guide us, I am impressed most people weren’t pregnant by 20. I find it incredible that you were expected to be a good girl, when you weren’t actually sure of what naughty was and the consequences. Needless to say, our son was planned and since our precious first born was in primary school we have taken care to explain, in plain language where baby’s come from, and have over the years repeated the information and provided more detail where necessary. Of course, it’s embarrassing for me, and our children. No one wants to unpack sex with a family member, but it’s important. I also recently got a bee in my bonnet about porn and explained to my son that porn has its limitations in terms of reality, how women are portrayed etc. (we are not getting into a porn discussion right now). As the kids grow up, I try to keep an open door on the sex discussion, as well as periods and how they cause women to become insane for half a month at a time. This just ensures the kids are well aware of when to ask for additional pocket money and when to just go without!

I will kiss their faces

My son is an affectionate child, my daughter less so. I don’t care. I will kiss their smug little pimply faces until they shove me off. As a first time mother I was distraught that I couldn’t put my son down without him wailing like a little piglet. I kept wanting to put him down and just be alone for a little bit. It was too much. I kind of wish you ‘birthed’ a teenager first and then they shrunk to become babies. Then you would know how precious they are, and you would kiss and hold and cuddle them way more when they are little, tiny babies, because you know those chances are gone once they grow up. Now I know, right! A little bit late, but I think I have a few years to go so I am going to hug them and kiss them for all its worth, so they know I love them with every fiber of my being, even if they never lift up the shower mat after a shower.

I will say no

I think this is the last one I can truly commit too. I fear I’m a bit easily swayed by my children, so I shouldn’t over commit. One thing though is that I will say no (and boy am I bad at no). I know I’m going to have to lean into my husband on this (he is way more steadfast and resolute and all those good things) and he is a stubborn as a mule. I know we are going to have to eventually say ‘no’ to some dodgy party, to some activity, to something that we just know is wrong. They will have to be mad at us, hate us and possibly defy us, but we are going to have to if we think it will result in harm. I know we can’t protect them against everything, but I hope that we will be able to see the obvious stuff and have the courage to say no and accept their anger. Sadly, we’re their parents, not their friends, and saying no seems to be part of it. So, with a heavy heart I accept that sometimes, I’ll have to say no, despite the fact that it will bring me no joy, or love from my children.

This is as far as I’m prepared to go, for now. Let’s check in on this article in five year’s time and have a good look at how I’ve done. By then I hope to have garnered more wisdom and hindsight that will hopefully help me be a better parent to growing adults and their needs.

I’d love to hear what your ‘parenting do’s and don’ts are’ that come to mind after reading this article. Leave me a message or tell me on social media.

Website: https://www.melinalewis.com/