Loosening The Grip

I had Happiness by Taylor Swift crooning in my ear as I walked past the kitchen island where all three of my children were huddled, each on their own phones and headphones. My middle child stopped me, holding out a berry colored lip gloss in her hand. It was one of my birthday gifts. I paused, took my earphone out and looked quizzically. She smiled as she said I took yours. I snatched it from her, fake cribbing about how all of my stuff gets stolen. One more turn around the house and I stopped again, this time holding the tiny bottle out to her. She pocketed it with glee even as my youngest complained it was unfair. There was something bittersweet about the interaction I couldn’t quite find the words for.

A few nights ago, the whole family was at the dinner table when this same child let out an expletive. My first instinct was to smile even as I asked her not to swear. After she left the table, my husband asked me how I expected her to listen if my first instinct was to smile? Before I could answer, I heard shibal from the hall and I gave up.

I walked past the twins bedrooms’ this morning and noticed a switch on the bed, a laptop on the floor and chargers everywhere. All around me are marks of fast growing girls in the process of shaping that flux that will one day be their identity.

Yesterday, we marked sixteen years of becoming a family. In 2010, I looked at the then 10 month old little babies not knowing what the journey will be like. I felt like a pioneer braving the great unknown that is parenting (transracial adoptive parenting to be specific). I was filled with trepidation. Eight years of craving motherhood had prepared me for that moment, yet, I felt woefully inadequate all the time.

Sixteen years later, when the bulk of the parenting is in the rearview, I can tell that woman from 2010 that she did good. She was not perfect. She was not right all the time. She made mistakes. She stumbled. She floundered. Yet, she survived. She learnt from her missteps. She course corrected. She was humbled.

The biggest lesson to come out of these years spent in the parenting wilderness is that children have lives outside the home. Parents will never know more than a quarter of what goes on in their children’s heads. And, it’s okay. What is important is that we acknowledge we are supporting humans in the making. We are not creating carbon copies of ourselves. Our role is one of support. It is being the fail safe for when things fall apart. It is sitting back and being amazed at how kids suddenly become adults. It is about loosening the grip a little more each day until you are waving bye and not feeling lost. It is knowing that whatever your child chooses to share with you is a privilege beyond measure and treasuring it in that same sense. It is knowing that you and your child will fail more often than succeed and that is how you build character.

It is always in the little moments that you will know that the inexorable process of separation has long begun.

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