Parenting a "Sort-of Adult"

 “Raising kids is part joy and part guerrilla warfare.” 

        – Ed Asner 

Our son is almost 20.  

Wow.  That sort of takes my breath away.  

It also sort of answers the question I ask myself daily, "how did I get so old?"  By being the parent of a human who is almost 20, that's how.   

At every step of being a parent, someone has said, "This is the hardest phase."  Think about that for a second.  At EVERY step, someone has said, "This one is the hardest phase."  It would appear they are ALL the hardest phase.  Don't read more into this than I mean.  I have loved being our son's Dad.  But, in the vernacular of the boy, "if I'm being honest," there have been a LOT of hard moments along the way, and at every step of the journey.  

There have been some really awful moments and seasons in our life as a family.  Surely, that's true for most families? 

And now I get to say it...this one, this phase, is one of the hardest.  And one of the best.  

By "this phase," I mean "sort-of adult". 

My wife and I are actually, mostly enjoying the empty nest part of the boy's "sort-of" adult status.  He is away at school from Sunday through Friday most weeks, and there are MANY nice things about him being out of the house.  It's sort of the best of both worlds.  We get a taste of having our home to the two of us just long enough each week to start to miss him.  He comes home and we are all happy to see each other. 

While home, he does all the things we (ok- I)  had learned to be annoyed by in the late teen years-  he leaves all the lights on, takes over the laundry room, takes over my garage, and then disappears until way too late at night.   So- we give him a hug on Sunday night, say goodbye, tell him to be safe, and then breathe a little sigh. 

And then stay up until I get the text from him saying he made it back safely...or more honestly, text him to see if he made it back to school safely.  

Because the worry doesn't end.  Out of sight, out of mind, might work for many things, but it does not always work for thinking about an adult-ish son or daughter.  If I allow myself to think too much, I start thinking about all the things he could be doing without supervision.  I remember all the things he DID do when he was still at home, theoretically under our supervision.  And, honestly, I start to think about all the things I did when is his age.  Stupid, careless, thoughtless, ridiculous, dangerous things.  Really, it has, on more than one occasion, kept me awake at night.  

On the other hand, it's an amazing time. I LOVE watching him grow into an adult.  He has amazing moments of clarity and wisdom.  And, generally speaking, those moments are getting bigger, more impressive, and happening more often. It's amazing to see him work things out.  It's incredible to see him get himself worked into a corner, or into a bit of mess, and actually fix it himself!  

He makes mistakes.  A lot of them.  He lands on his feet, nearly every time.  He is planning his future, and it looks like a workable plan.  In that way, he's in a whole lot better shape than I was at his age.  At 20, I was mostly wandering around wondering how to do whatever was next- without even knowing what was next.  

So- this- this is one of the hardest and most amazing phases of parenting.  He'll do something 20 years old and stupid in a minute, and I'll lose my mind at him.  In the next minute, he'll do something so smart and beyond my ability, and I'll just melt with absolute pride and love for him.  I wonder, a lot, if this is how my Dad felt.  I suspect it is.  

It is the best of times, and the worst of times.  

I wrote today's poem 15 years ago.  My son was 5.   I still feel this poem.  I'm just older, and there would be different examples. 

THE RIDE

 
It was a beautiful fall day.   No wind, 68 degrees, and skies the color of dreams.  Simply…beautiful.
This kind of day is rare in a place where the average wind speed is 20mph
And the feedlots and ethanol plant mix to create an aroma that is- well, NOT beautiful. 
(You can tell me it smells like money all you want- it stinks, BAD)
At any rate- it’s the kind of day where you just want to be outside. 
 
My five year old and I head out on our bicycles for a ride. 
Now- for those of you who’ve never had a five year old, or those who did, and have forgotten,
Riding bicycles with a five year old is less than a ride than it is a series of near death experiences.
“STOP- LOOK BOTH WAYS.”   “DON’T STOP WITHOUT WARNING ME, I’LL RUN OVER YOU.”
“WATCH FOR PEOPLE ON THE SIDEWALK!”
After stopping, a lot, to look at things, and dodging, and avoiding, and speeding up and slowing down,
Finally, and, thankfully, safely, we made it to the park that was our destination.
A full city block surrounded and crossed diagonally with wide sidewalks-
The perfect place for a five year old to ride his bike. 
 
We get there, and in typical, “You can’t catch me, Daddy” fashion,
He’s gone in a streak of 5 year old with training wheels lightning. 
Suddenly, just around the corner from where I am, I hear what I can’t see.
“COOOOOO--UUUL!!!!,” then a strange thrashing/crackly sound, and uncontrollable giggling.
Side note- “COOOO--UUULLL!”, is five year old for cool, and, yes, it’s 2 syllables.
I turn on the speed, make the corner just in time to see-
My son on his bright red bike coast through a pile of fall leaves,  and then dive-
ok somersault off the bike, and make a snow angel- a leaf angel???-
Whatever- you get the point.
 
I get him up out of the leaves, both of us belly laughing uncontrollably.
We proceed to find every pile of leaves in that full city block of park and plow our way through them
Red and yellow and green leaf shards flying everywhere, laughing until we can’t breathe,
And we make a ridiculous mess. 
A 40 year old man and a 5 year old both yelling, diving into leaves, laughing-
Generally acting like the boys we are…and were.
It was wonderful. 
 
My wife and I waited a long time for our son, and I sometimes regret not being younger for him. 
I worry that he’s missing out on the youth and energy of a younger dad.
But then, there are those PERFECT moments in a PERFECT day
When I realize that God isn’t just good, He’s great, and He knew exactly what the boy and I both needed.
And when we would need it.
 
Oh, there are lots of tough moments.  Parenting is the most frightening thing I’ve ever done.
But, and this is an incredible “but”,  (my son giggles when I say that)
It’s also the most amazing and life changing thing I’ve ever done. 
It’s made me more loving, more patient, more kind, and more fun. 
Although I don’t know if the boy would tell you that…
 
And while I’m 52, and I do have trouble keeping up some days,
My now 17 year old son performs a miracle on a recurring basis.
He makes me young.
 
                                        -R. Tidwell, Fall 2008