Parenting the adult "child" ~ Leah St. James

My older son is celebrating a birthday this week, and of course I’ve been spending time looking back at the years–not just the many instances of joys and wonder, but also those moments of sheer terror and anguish. 

It got me thinking about an adage I read at some point–something like the bigger the kid, the bigger the problems. So true.

For example, a toddler might stuff a Pop Tart in your in-laws’ 8-track tape player, then turn it on. You rush in to clean up the mess, replace the unit if needed, and do your best to keep the little tyke occupied while at Grandma’s and Grandpa’s. (Not that I speak from personal experience...)

If your 5-year-old son is caught “relieving himself” against a tree during recess, in full view of a half dozen third-grade girls, you can spend your 15 minutes in the principal’s office apologizing, then take your son home to impress on him that just because Daddy might have taught him it’s okay to do that in the woods doesn’t mean it’s okay in public. (Not that I speak from personal experience...) 

But when they’re older, even the “child’s” most seemingly innocuous error in judgement can turn bad, quickly. And when you can’t help, it’s hard to sit back and watch.

Case in point: When my son was a senior in high school, he borrowed my car one Friday night to drive over to a friend’s house to hang out. Around 11 p.m., as I was heading for bed, the phone rang. It was the local police, wanting to know who was driving my car.

Instantly visions of twisted metal, flipped cars and spinning wheels filled my head, and as my heart galloped, I answered, “That would be my son. Why?”

Officer: “You need to contact him and bring him into the station. Now.”

Turns out my son was driving around with a car full of other kids (which was very much against our rules), and while stopped at a red light, one of the boys rolled down the window and shot Silly String at the car next to it. That car happened to be a brand-new, sporty Mercedes, owned by one of the town’s big-shot attorneys. 

When the attorney rolled down his window, started yelling and waving his arms at the potential damage to his expensive ride, my son, being an 18-year-old “adult,” decided the best course of action would be to make a run for it. Thus began a car chase through the rolling hills of central New Jersey. 

Image courtesy of tomekkno via
Pixabay, CCO Public Domain

Apparently the attorney got tired of torturing his fancy car with the winding, gravel-lined roads in that area and returned to the police station to file a report, and  I had to drive my son to the police station to answer for his actions. 

I’ll never forget my fear and helplessness as I watched the officer lead him to a room in the back of the police station for questioning. In the end, no charges were filed, but the attorney had a full year to change his mind. At the time, my son had won a full scholarship to the college of his choice and had about a month left before graduating high school with honors. I worried for a solid year.

Now, almost 15 years later, I can look back with some perspective.

First, what the heck was that attorney thinking, chasing a car full of kids like that? Maybe he should have been given a ticket!

But mainly I realize how lucky we were that it wasn’t worse. There were no injuries to people or property....although my car did achieve legendary status among my son’s friends and classmates. Yay.

We’re so lucky that as much as that experience grayed some of my hair, it scared the you-know-what out of my son as well. I’m not saying he never again pulled a bone-headed act, but he did graduate and go on to college. In fact, he is now in the final stages of earning his Ph.D.

Has my heart ached for him over one thing or another over these years? Of course, there have been hard times and problems. But at this point, like then, all I can do is pray, lend an ear, or a hand–when asked!–to help him over the bumps in the road.

If you are one of those parents whose “kids” are going through a tough time right now, my heart aches for you as you sit and watch, and feel for them.

Parenting, even for the “experienced,” is not for the faint at heart.

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Leah writes stories of mystery and suspense, good and evil, and the power of love. She loves exploring different love relationships -- like between husband and wife, parent and child. In her Christmas Dance, she looks at marriage after the Happy Ever After.

LeahStJames.com

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Alexandra Anderson has a loving husband who provides for her every need, a beautiful home in the suburbs, and money to fulfill her slightest whim.  But after a lonely childhood, what she wants more than anything is a baby, a family of her own.

Sam Herrmann is married to his college sweetheart, and together they have three healthy, boisterous boys. Sam spends his days running numbers as a government accountant, and his nights and weekends trying to keep up with the grueling family schedule set by his wife – a wife he can barely remember.

What happens when two married people take a look at the perfect lives they've created and decide it's not enough? What happens when those same two people catch the eye of a stranger, and like what they see?

Christmas Dance
A story of love and marriage.
A story of hope.
 
http://a.co/7ZqZQaB 

Books That Stay With You by Diane Burton

I’m a fast reader. Usually I zip through books, skimming the “boring” parts (aka descriptions), lingering on dialogue, soaking up the plot. I finish one book then on to the next. Rinse and repeat.

I didn’t used to be so cavalier about books. My grandmother would send us books for birthdays and Christmas. I didn’t always appreciate the stories, but I did appreciate her thoughtfulness. I still have those books, which she always signed with the date and her full name. Because books were difficult to come by—money was tight with seven kids—I hoarded hardbacks, used babysitting money for paperbacks that I read over and over until they were tattered. And because of that, once I could afford  books I never let them go.

Our last move to a new house convinced me to divest myself of many books. Unlike in the past where the company paid moving expenses, this one was on our dime. Books are heavy, and we paid by the pound. Our local library became the recipient of free books from several conferences, books I hadn’t gotten around to reading and knew I never would. Except for several all-time and forever favorites plus several for research, my books reside on my Kindle. Easy to carry with me wherever I go. Finish one book at the doctor’s office, go on to the next while waiting.

Consequently, stories don’t stick with me like they used to. For one thing, on my Paperwhite, I don’t see the cover each time I pick up the book. I open the Kindle, and I’m right where I left off in the story. Without the cover reminding me of the title and author, I don’t remember books like I used to.

Every once in a while, a story will stick with me. Case in point, Night Road by Kristin Hannah. I’d chosen the book for our monthly book group. It’s the story of a “helicopter” mom of high school twins. In our discussion, one of the women (close to my age) said things are different from when we raised our children. While I agree—we never had lockdowns at school—I still believe parents have to find a balance between protecting their children while helping them make their own decisions when they are young. Expanding the decision making from little things, like what to wear, to using their own judgement on what to read and, eventually, whether to drink in high school. And letting go.

In Night Road, the main character was so obsessed with protecting her kids that she made all their decisions. (Or so she thought.) But how could they make rational decisions when Mom would disagree and probably ground them?

I wasn’t the best mother nor was I the worst. Like most mothers, I made my share of mistakes. I trusted my children when I probably shouldn’t have. I badgered them about where they were going and who they would be with but didn’t follow through by checking up on them. Was that the right thing to do? To paraphrase a school psychologist at a PTO meeting (way back when), I did the best I could given what I knew at the time.

That’s all we really can do, isn’t it? Fortunately, my children lived through their high school and college years. I survived, too. But a single mistake, a case of bad judgement, changed everyone’s life in Night Road. That could have been one or both of my kids. Scary. Actually, in retrospect, it’s terrifying. I know I can’t live in the past or play the “what if” game with real lives. All we can do is pray that we make the best decisions and live with the consequences.

Diane Burton writes romantic suspense, mysteries, and science fiction romance. She blogs here on the 30th of the month, on Paranormal Romantics on the 13th, and on her own blog on Mondays.

FIVE THINGS I KNOW ABOUT BEING A MOTHER by Andrea Downing

Cristal and I cooking together

It’s Mother’s Day and time to take stock of why I’m being treated to dinner with the rest of my colleagues.  I’ve given this much consideration; after all, I’ve had thirty-two years (my daughter’s age, not mine) to mull this over.  Of course, one would think that thirty-two years of experience would teach you a lesson. Not quite so…or at least, if we don’t generalize, not always true!  Here are five things I’ve learned about being a mother:

1) My daughter is the most beautiful, intelligent, wonderful, kind, considerate blah bla bla person in the world. You may think the same about your child, and know that the occasional snarky words, hissy fits, and tears are not his/her true self. This assessment cannot be denied or downgraded, and will be believed and taken with you to the grave.

2) My daughter knows far more than I could ever hope to know, even though I have a good thirty-five year head start on her:  my experience counts for nought.  Don’t think about asking stupid questions; you will only be talked down and have to find another, quiet, moment to ask the same question in a reasonable way.  Please take note, and mark it well:  You will never, ever, EVER be as smart as your children.

Cristal and her fiance, Daniel Saffon

3) Her boyfriend or his girlfriend is the second most wonderful person in the world, no matter what you think.  Luckily, my daughter Cristal is now engaged, and, yes, her fiancé is the second most wonderful person in the world—after all, he can put up with her.  OOooops, did I say that? Well, he must be Superman because he’s marrying Wonder Woman.  I do recall, however, a beau she dated for four years at university whom I absolutely could not stand. This was a major problem except that, happily, she was at university in the USA, and I lived in London at the time. When I received the call one afternoon that she had broken up with said boyfriend (for the very same reasons I disliked him), I practically pirouetted down the street in joy…

4) Every gift she/he gives you is in the best taste and exactly what you wanted. Do not even begin to think about this; don’t ask any questions, just wear or display whatever it is he/she’s given you and enjoy it, show it off, and be proud.  And that includes the item you wouldn’t be caught dead in.

5) Finally, when he/she presents you with your first grandchild and you foresee years ahead of babysitting, nose-wiping and diaper changing, listen carefully to the instructions she now gives you about holding that precious bundle.  After all, what the hell do you know about holding a baby?  Admittedly, I still have to look forward to this moment, yet I see it clear as day—the information, the instructions, the sigh of disapproval. 

Just as if I hadn’t raised the mother myself.

To read a bit more about the troubles children have with their parents, head to Bad Boy, Big Heart in the Come Love a Cowboy anthology, available at:  myBook.to/Come-Love-A-Cowboy 

AND  https://www.amazon.com/Come-Love-Cowboy-Kathleen-Ball-ebook/dp/B01D5876UK/

When New Yorker K.C. Daniels heads to Wyoming for a summer job, she wants nothing more than to fit in with the staff of the Lazy S Ranch. Yearning to be independent of her mom and dad, and have a taste of the west before she starts her Master's degree, getting involved with a cowboy is the last thing on her mind—especially when she’s greeted with warnings about ‘Bad Boy’ Chay Ridgway.

High school dropout Chay Ridgway sees summer as his time to be a rodeo star and win a girl in his life, while facing the responsibilities he has for his father. Although working to bring in cash to help his dad, he's never had a problem finding a woman who's happy to be that summer love—until K.C. Daniels appears on the scene.

As two different worlds collide in a season that will end all too soon, is this going to be another summer romance or a love that will last for years?

And find me at:

Website & Blog:  http://andreadowning.com

Facebook:  https://www.facebook.com/writerAndreaDowning

Twitter:  @andidowning  https://twitter.com/AndiDowning

Goodreads:  http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6446229.Andrea_Downing

Amazon Author Page:  http://www.amazon.com/Andrea-Downing/e/B008MQ0NXS/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_0

Parenting--buddy or coach? by Leah St. James

Have you been following the news this week in Major League Baseball? I wouldn’t have been, except that this week’s news had little to do with baseball and much to do with parenting. Adam La Roche, former first baseman for the Chicago White Sox, retired and gave up his $13 million annual salary to spend more time with his son, Drake. 

 

My first thought was Oh, how nice! 

My second thought was more than a little envious, Geez, how lucky to have that choice. 

Then I started reading more about it and I discovered that it wasn’t the case of a dad who traveled a lot and rarely got to see his son. It was a case of a dad refusing to be separated from his son. 

According to this Washington Post article, it’s common for baseball players to bring their sons into the clubhouse. But La Roche brought his son with him every day. “Drake La Roche was a constant presence at Adam’s side, shagging fly balls during batting practice, remaining in the clubhouse during games, helping the attendants with odd jobs all the while.” They even had adjacent lockers.

So when the team’s executive vice president asked him to cut back on the visits, La Roche claimed a breach of the agreement he had made with the club prior to signing. (In a statement released a few days ago, LaRoche said he was later told not to bring his son at all.) And he walked away from what many would consider a dream job with a salary to match.

Many are lauding his decision as a win for family values.

I’m all for family values, spending time together and sticking up for our principles, but I can’t help but sympathize with the White Sox--at least as far as asking for a cut-back. Maybe they shouldn’t have agreed to that arrangement in the first place. Maybe the visits were just more than they envisioned? I mean, what if every player wanted his son to have an that kind of access? I’m picturing a free-for-all, day-care kind of environment, little boys running wild. (Visions of my son's first-grade birthday party at the mini golf course are haunting me!) The liability issues alone are enough to make an HR person’s hair turn white!

But my concerns are deeper and have nothing to do with business. 

To me, the big issue is about parenting, and from a parental standpoint, I have to disagree with the desire to have your child at work with you, every day, all day. I think that's depriving the child of other valuable life experiences.

To me, a parent’s job isn’t to spend every waking minute with a child. A parent’s job isn’t to be the child’s best buddy. 

A parent’s job is to teach (often by example) to guide, to share core values and to expose a child to the world—the good and the bad. Because there is bad in the world. People get sick. People lose jobs (not by their own choosing). People are victims of crime and cons and natural disaster.

The parent’s job is to help a child understand that while we work hard for a better life and for rainbows at the end of every day, sometimes life doesn’t work out that way. Sometimes an employer gives you news you don't want to hear.

Helping prepare a child to deal with the bad stuff in life is a huge part of a parent’s job. And I can’t help but think that Adam LaRoche just hit a foul ball. In fact, I think he might possibly have just taught his son that when you can’t get your way, pick up your ball and go home. 

I don’t claim to be an expert on parenting—far from it. But hubby and I have raised two sons to adulthood, and so far they seem to be pretty decent men. :-)

While they were with us, growing up, hubby and I didn’t have the luxury of binding them to our sides every waking minute.  They joined activities in and out of school, they met all different people outside our influence and made their friends, some we liked, some we didn't. And as they grew, when they made mistakes as everyone does, I watched with my heart in my throat, wishing I could jump in and make everything right. But they had to figure things out for themselves. 

As hard as it was, as much as I wanted to shelter them and control their environments, I had to let them learn on their own. I had to let them become men. 

So what do you think? Have I missed the point? Am I all wrong on this? 

________________

 Leah writes stories of mystery and romance, good and evil, and the power of love. Visit her at her website and on Facebook. Catch her tweeting lines from her works in progress for #1LineWednesday each week.

Having it All ~ by Leah St. James

I came of age in an odd, in-between period of time. The hippie movement had passed, disco ruled, and the women’s movement was beginning to establish a foothold in the hearts and minds of America’s female population.

By the time I was a young teen, Billie Jean King had (successfully) challenged Bobby Riggs to see women not as a weaker gender but as equal.  A few years later, Helen Reddy sang“I am Woman,” declaring “If I have to, I can do anything.”



Women, once consigned by societal mores to traditional roles of wife, mother, secretary, nurse and teacher, could now do more. We could marry, raise a family, go to law school or med school, get an MBA from Harvard and run a company—we could do anything.

With the help of scholarships, I went to college and started taking classes like biology and chemistry. I didn’t know where that path would lead, but I knew I wanted to do something important. I wanted to make a difference—maybe decoding the genes that defined disease.

Then I met my husband.

Before I knew it, was married and living in a suburb of Washington, D.C., working for one of the federal agencies that hunts down bad guys. I was doing something that mattered. Another checkmark on my having-it-all list.

A couple years later, son number one was born, and my list was complete. I had the meaningful career, marriage to a wonderful guy, and motherhood with all its joys. Joys like breathing in that clean baby scent, watching him sleep, his little mouth making sucking movements as he dreamed of eating. Playing at bath time, water splashing and sloshing over the rim of the tub, onto the floor. Watching him toddle those first tentative steps. Reading to him, singing to him – Okay, he preferred my husband’s impersonation of Elvis’s “C.C. Rider” over my Linda Ronstadt, but whatever.

I also remember sleepless nights, constant exhaustion and weekends filled with cleaning and shopping and hours at the Laundromat. I remember fighting D.C. traffic morning and night, using “vacation” days to stay home with a sick baby, and daycare bills that took most of my pay. And the worst—the GUILT of leaving my baby with strangers for more than 50 hours a week.

At work, I stumbled from day to day, watching the clock until I could bolt for home. I was doing it all—marriage, motherhood, career—but struggled to do it well.

When our second son came along, I quit my full-time job to do transcription work. The pay was lousy but I could work at home on my schedule. I joined PTA committees, served as grade mom and went on class trips. I worked crazy hours—late nights and weekends—but I had a ball.

My sons are grown now and I'm so proud of the men they've become. But I can't help but wonder how things would have turned out had I stayed the career course. Money would have been easier over the years, and my sons probably wouldn't be carrying the same student debt load, but would they be different men?

So my question is: Can a mother be successful at having “it all”?

I think you can, with the right circumstances. (Alicia Dean shared her story on the 19th.) For me, it wasn’t until I’d redefined “it all,” that I was happy and counted my choices a success.

What about you?
______________________

Leah writes stories of mystery and romance, good and evil, and the enduring power of love. Please visit Leah at LeahStJames.com.

Motherhood vs. Parenting by Leah St. James

I love being a mom. I have two grown sons, and I’ve loved being their mom from those joyous moments I knew they were growing inside, to the euphoric instants of birth and through the years, watching them mature to the wonderful men they are today.

Visiting the Penn State Nittany Lion at
University Park, Pa. My son said, "Hey,
there's a guy in there!"

Being a mom is the laughter from the “So big!” game, the anxious pride of watching that first competition or recital, the bittersweet happiness of witnessing your child fall in love. Being a mom is the fear that grips every fiber of your body and soul while nurses wheel your child toward surgery, the despair of learning your child has an incurable medical condition but knowing you must be strong to help him cope.  A mom is a fixer, a peace-maker, a boo-boo kisser and a shoulder to cry on.

When my son changed majors, requiring
a couple more years of school than
we had expected, it seemed like
graduation day would never come.
When it did, I wanted proof!

I love being a mom, even in those fearful times, but sometimes I really hate being a parent.

Where mom is the nurturer, the fierce protector, a parent is the enforcer.

A parent has the task of telling a young son that, despite what Daddy told him, it’s NOT okay to relieve himself against the tree in the schoolyard... when the second-grade girls are 20 feet away. A parent compels a child to face someone he’s hurt, to make amends. A parent meets with teachers and guidance counselors to develop strategies that will, hopefully, turn that child’s schoolroom performance from weak to strong. A parent sits in a waiting room in the local police station while officers have a conversation with her just-turned 18-year-old, then has her own conversation when he’s released.

A parent metes out time-outs and forces her child to face the hard facts of life, and those moments truly are harder on the parent than the child.

It’s far easier to turn a blind eye to a child’s “little white lie,” or to explain away poor behavior than it is to confront it and call it out for what it is. Nobody likes dishing out uncomfortable truths, and it goes against a mom’s nurturing instinct when she has to deliver those realities to someone whose life she would save over her own.

A parent has to understand, far more than the child, that tough love is often the best kind of love.

When I was a little girl, we had a female cat that had kittens. My mom found homes for the kittens, but one day, one of the kittens made its way back to our house. I remember the kitten standing on our porch, meowing to come inside. And I vividly remember our sweet, loving mama cat peering through the glass, growling and hissing until the kitten ran off. (I can only hope the kitten made it home!)

I was horrified. How could our mother cat have turned her own child away? My mother, my parent, said, “She’s doing her job, honey. She’s taught him everything he needs to survive, and now it’s his turn to make a life for himself.”

It took me years to understand that lesson, but I remembered it as I raised my boys, and I’ve often wondered if our cat felt the pain I’ve felt when having to “parent” one of my sons.

Still, the joy of being a mom is worth every painful moment of parenting. I love my boys--every joyous and the not-so-joyous moment--and I'm so blessed, and proud, to be both their mom and their parent.
____________________

Leah writes stories of mystery and romance, good and evil, and the enduring power of love. Visit Leah at LeahStJames.com , Twitter, Facebook and Pinterest.