My Babies Aren’t Babies Anymore

Sometimes I think being a mother of teenagers is harder than being a mother of toddlers. As a mother of twins, every stage of life has had its challenges: deciding which infant to change or feed first, trying to keep two toddlers in one room, potty training two children at once, trying to attend open house the same night for two kids in different classes, having two kids with learner’s permits…you get the picture. Being a mother is the hardest job I’ve ever had, but it is also the most rewarding. It’s a labor of love. Lately, emphasis on labor!

Before I had children, I thought I knew what to expect once I became a parent. I knew there would be sleepless nights, temper tantrums, tears, and hugs. I expected that there would be days when I couldn’t contain the joy I felt when I looked at my precious angels. I was certain there would be days when I’d threaten to sell them to the Gypsies. All parents make that threat at some point, don’t they? I knew it would be challenging raising twins. What I didn’t know was how hard it would be to let them go.

Before the pandemic came along to wreak havoc on the entire world, I had what I considered two exceptionally typical teenagers. They’re mine, so of course I’m biased and think they’re special. At the same time though, I considered them quite normal. Sophomores in high school, we were performing this delicate juggling act between the three of us. Maybe it was more like a fun game of “Mommy in the Middle.” My daughter was working three jobs. My son was finally finding his passion in school by enrolling in the automotive collision repair course. She needed a ride to work. He needed an extra push to make sure his homework was done. They both needed food constantly. Teenagers eat a lot!! Then of course there were the late night runs to Walmart for things they “forgot” they had to have for school the next morning. Let’s not even discuss the fact that I had to practically drag my son out of bed every morning and remind him to brush his teeth and put on a clean shirt for school. See? Typical teenagers.

I thought I was doing a pretty fair job of letting them grow up. I’d drop them off at the movies or the fair with friends. They walked uptown with friends when school let out early to have lunch at Shorty’s. I stopped doing their laundry a few years ago after teaching them the magical powers of the washer and dryer. I gave them chores to do around the house. I allowed them certain freedoms within the confines of our own home that I most certainly didn’t have when I was their age. These are different times we’re living in. The old rules don’t apply.

I remember the first time they wanted to go for a walk without me. I was panicked. What if they got kidnapped? What if someone tried to hurt them? At that point, my mom stepped in with her tried and true wisdom. Trust. I had to trust that I’d taught them to be careful, to be aware, and to make smart decisions. I had to trust my faith that nothing bad would happen. Freedom. I had to give them the freedom to go out on their own and earn my trust. My mom would say, “Do you want to give them a little freedom now, or do you wanna wait until they have a license and want to just take off in the car?” She’s so smart. Only the best moms get promoted to Granny.

Physically letting go isn’t as hard as psychologically letting go. School is a perfect example. The remainder of the school year will be completed through online learning. We had a discussion about my expectations and their responsibilities. All assignments must be completed and turned in on time. If that only takes three hours on Monday morning, the rest of the week is theirs to enjoy however they’d like. Netflix. Xbox. Nap. As long as the work is done, it’s all good. My daughter is mostly on top of her assignments. She’s often on FaceTime with classmates working through them together. My son, however, doesn’t think school is important. He’s take up the terrible bad habit of not doing his assignments. I’m getting at least three emails a week from his teachers about missing work. It’s a vicious cycle. I get an email from the teacher, I send him a screenshot of the text, he texts me that he’ll handle it. The problem here is that he isn’t handling it. Even worse, he’s lying to me about it.

Now in the great scheme of things, my son not doing an English paper or a Geometry assignment is really not all that bad. He’s not out doing drugs or stealing cars or having sex. He’s in his room playing Xbox. Who is he really hurting here? Not me. I’ve already graduated high school. If he doesn’t do the work, he fails. If he fails, he could be held back. If he just barely passes, his indifference toward his schoolwork may be a problem if he applies to college. So what’s my problem then? I’m still his mom. He’s still my son, and if he fails at something, I feel like I’ve failed him. The reality is that he’s old enough to be responsible for himself. I shouldn’t have to tell him to do his homework. Just like I shouldn’t have to tell my daughter to clean her room!

My children aren’t children. They are teenagers. In just two short years, they’ll turn eighteen. They’ll graduate high school. Legally, they will be adults. That, my friends, is the hardest part of being a parent…the letting go. It’s trusting that you’ve prepared them to take care of themselves. It’s praying that they will make good decisions. It’s being proud of them for all of their accomplishments. It’s being there for them when they need you and realizing that they won’t need you quite the same way they did when they were children. It’s hard to let go. It’s hard to watch your children try and fail. Even harder is accepting that sometimes they may not even try at all. It’s downright painful to know that you can’t always help them, because that’s what you want to do every second of every day.

I’m struggling with the letting go. I’m not good at not being in control. I’ve spent my whole life trying to take care of everyone around me. It’s a little scary to think that soon I’ll only have to take care of myself. I’m not even sure I know how to do that. As much as their lives will change when they head out on their own, mine will too. All I can do is sit back and pray I’m doing this whole motherhood thing right. Lord knows I’m trying.

EDITOR’S NOTE: My son is a great kid, well, young man. He is incredibly intelligent and super creative. He’s got the biggest heart, and he’ll do anything he can to help absolutely anyone. It wasn’t my intention to make him sound any kind of way. He’s just a typical high school boy, and I love him dearly.