Gen-X Mom
by Tamy Way
The other day I was looking
at some of Jeff's previous Gen-X
dad columns, chuckling
to myself.
Those first few years your little miracle is scampering around
are maddening. Time seems to stand still, while chaos reigns. Then one day you wake up and
realize you stand on the threshold of serious parenting. I stand
teetering on that edge right now. Not that the whole deal isn't
serious, but here I am at a point where I see if I passed the
test. I stand where Jeff sits weeping madly at all the choices
he will have to make. Today all the worries of what should we
watch, listen to, or say in front of the kids are gone. I face
the ultimate question. Did it work?
According to demographics, I, as well, am a Gen-X parent. I have
two children, a son and a daughter. My story takes a nail biting
turn, though. While all my friends are debating potty training,
I am beginning my descent into the unknown teenage years (loud
booming voice optional). I have a daughter. That alone allows
for the queasy feeling. In April, she will be 13. That is cause for projectile
vomitting and sedation.
I think of boys, clothes, boys, makeup, and oh yeah, boys. Stuck
on one thought? You bet!
Flashbacks hit me like boulders. Should I have been a little more this? A lot more that? No time for second thoughts. Reality is staring up at me with big brown eyes asking " Mom are you ok?" No. All I want to do is grab her and hold on forever. Of course, she at this point considers me completely insane. Probably right. In hindsight, it may explain the crazed look my parents developed about the same time I turned 12. You can still see it lurking in the shadows to this day.
I am not afraid of what I have "created". The truth be known, I have created the person she has become. Be it friend or enemy, it is all mine. In the next few years, I will either be what sparks her desire to learn and grow or about 150$ an hour of therapy. Let's hope she becomes an amazing sucess in spite of my mistakes. I realize that most of my peers consider my parenting skills unique. I have been through all the fads. Some of them too ugly and painful to discuss. I have been through all genres of music. I have seen shows and movies that require the aid of trash can by my side. For the most part my daughter has made some awesome choices.
My peers think I am too lenient. Ask my kids. They'll tell you different. I hold them to much higher standards. Each accountable for his own actions. They have minds of their own and they use them. They force down walls each day in an effort to live outside the box. Still my peers pry. How can you let them watch or listen to that crap? Number one, we always watch or listen to that crap together. There are no surprises when I hear the TV or the radio. I know what they are watching. They know where the lines are drawn and they do something unique. They think, they ask. If it's crap, I will let them know. Not because I think it's crap, but because it is crap. Seems simple. Oh, but no, it really isn't. You will spend your entire parenting career hearing about your mistakes. One mother told me my kids were going to hell if I didn't change their lifestyle. More shocking was that I was leading them on this path of self destruction. Ouch. Just as I was about to fire off some witty retort, my husband appears. Honey, he pleads, do you really think a babyshower is a proper venue for this. Well, yes. Well, no. I guess he's right. Yeah, that's in print. Get him a copy.
Our kids aren't
going to hell because they watch Pokemon or listen to the Backstreet
Boys. Hell is life without God. Life without God is unbearable. I don't want that for my kids.
No parent wants that for their kids. Even the ones who think
they know better. Peter's second letter is rather clear,
" The day of the Lord will come like a thief. The Heavens
will disappear with a roar, the elements will be destroyed by
fire and everything in it will be laid bare."
Doesn't leave a lot of time to sit and point fingers. There's
a lot of work to be done. I'll start in my house, you start in
yours. Where does all this leave me? Standing on the edge of
uncertainty. Talking a lot to God. Hoping that I haven't wasted
any time doing my job. The results of my effort won't be seen
for many years. I pray that they are good. In the meantime, I
spend a lot of time talking to my daughter. What do you think?
How does that make you feel? What do you want to see happen?
My focus is not on what will make me happy, but what will make
her happy. I know that over the next few years that will involve
dating, music, movies, friends, parties, hopefully her family
and ultimately God. I can't pick for her. I can only guide, watch,
listen, and pray. Pray that all the groundwork I laid years ago
will support her. I am only one force that pushes and pulls on
her. My hope is that while I am doing all this pushing, I don't
push away.
Parenting, in one word, is scary. You know you screw up. You know you are a dork, an embarrassment. Sometimes cool and funny. Always weird and definitely loving. You also know that you are home. When the world beats down on my daughter, she always knows she can come home. No questions asked. I will listen. I will cry. I will do something dorky. She will laugh and the world will be right for one more day. So, as another day begins and she heads for school, I pause. I do a mental check of what she is wearing and I wonder. Does she still like me? Am I still cool? Is she sick of listening to my ramblings? Hey, is any of this sinking in? Just as I am lost in paranoia, she turns and kisses my cheek. I squeeze her tight and begin laughing hyterically. "You're weird mom." Given. "have a good day" she says. "I love you mom." Me too baby, me too.
