Parenting is not a job for those needing immediate gratification; you have to be prepared to hunker down and play the long game. As an adult I have had more moments than I’m proud to admit of calling my mom to say, “You remember that time when I was young, and I did/said___________? Well, I’m really sorry for that and am so glad you didn’t disown me like you should have.” I cringe to think about the eye rolls, muttered comments, and general lack of gratitude at which I became masterful during adolescence. And even preceding and following those unfortunate years my behavior would have earned me a well-deserved ear cuffing from a less patient mother.
I can remember so vividly things that my mama said to me that felt like some level of human rights violation then; now that I hear the same words coming from my own mouth, however, they seem like pearls of wisdom! She only ever needed to make good on her promises once to make a believer of me: “I’m cleaning house today while you’re at school; anything left lying on your floor when you leave will not be there when you get back.” Disrespect and laziness were never acceptable behaviors in our household. I can’t remember which of the two I was guilty of (truthfully, probably both!) that caused Mama to say, “Look, I’m always going to love you because you’re mine. Not everyone else has to, so shape up!”
The tasks she expected my sister and me to complete were so few, in hindsight. She was the one who prepared our meals (home-cooked every night, although at the time we begged her to please, please let us have a frozen pizza just once!), laundered our clothes (heck, she made our clothes!), did the yard work, ran the errands, sat with us in the night when we battled monsters or fevers, and taxied us to school, extra-curriculars, jobs, friends’ homes, and dental appointments. What she did with us, though, is what pedagogical experts now refer to as “gradual release of responsibility.” Unsurprisingly, Mama’s instincts about how to raise kids who sought new experiences, hard work, and opportunities to serve others were right on the money. What mattered to her was allowing her kids to enjoy being kids, while slowly shifting age-appropriate duties to us. How did she just know what it took child psychologists until relatively recently to discover, that the pride of accomplishing a goal builds confidence and ownership in children and young adults?
As adult children, we can see (if we’ll only look) that our parents have always had identities and pasts separate from their roles as Mom and Dad. We can see that they were trying to build the plane of parenting (and life) while flying it, doing the best they could to get it all right. Too, if we can see with greater clarity how the events of our childhoods affected who we became, wouldn’t the same hold true for our parents? I consider my mother’s childhood, which would be deemed financially impoverished by today’s calculations, and the sacrifices of her parents to provide meals that filled their children’s bellies and love that fed their spirits. Back-to-school shoes and class supplies were put on layaway at the beginning of each summer, funded by the money earned by my grandfather’s extra shifts at the cotton mill. I think about my sweet, earnest mama and how it might have felt for her to not have the trendiest clothes or a parent who could drive her to the library to complete school assignments. If she felt the least envious of classmates with the “right” haircuts/clothes/ cars or allowances that could be spent at the movies on Saturday, she has never said so. Instead, she recalls the oranges and hard candy that filled the Christmas stockings, and the example of her parents’ devotion not only to their children, but to one another.
I consider Mama as an adult, trying to raise two daughters, make my dad’s life easier at the end of his 50-hour work weeks, and caring for her father once his cancer diagnosis necessitated frequent medical treatments, as well as her mother as she struggled to accept her husband’s terminal prognosis. Still, she attended college classes, studying and working once her family was asleep or before we woke. Being a wife, mother, and daughter brought her so much joy, but earning high marks on her assignments validated her in ways completely separate from all of us. And so when she missed a test the day her father passed away and her instructor, not considering her effort and performance throughout the semester, did not allow her any option to re-test, it broke her spirit. She withdrew from classes and devoted herself wholly to her family, putting thoughts of a college degree out of mind.
I look at the woman whose face is as familiar to me as my own and wonder just how much more I’ve missed through the years without even realizing it. How many heartbreaks she kept from her children, how many times she would have loved to spend that extra $20 on herself but instead divided it evenly between whatever her daughters needed, and how often she needed praise, gratitude, and a sincere, “How are you?” from any of us and didn’t receive it. My mama, gun in hand, shepherded her children out of the house when a burglar broke in while my dad was traveling. My mama handmade my costumes for every school program. My mama held me tightly on her lap while I got a shot, telling me that while she couldn’t keep it from hurting, she would be right there with me just as long as I needed.
Yes, parenting is all about the long game. While we’re busy living in the ego-centric bubbles of our youths, our parents are experiencing pain, insecurities, hardships, and worries from which they selflessly shield us. If we’re very, very lucky, we get the chance to tell them all that we should have over the course of a lifetime. As for me, I accept that I can only strive to be the kind of woman my mama is and am grateful that I can now tell her that whatever it is that she may face in life, I will hold onto her tight and be there with her just as long as she needs me.
PartWolf 