I signed up for five yoga sessions. Will be hitting the first one today. (Should I be saying ‘hitting’ if I’m going to yoga?) I thought since I’ve been pooping my brains out for two weeks and eating a bland diet and not drinking and doing much reflecting on my entire life as of late, now would be as good time as any to take up yoga seriously and not just in my living room.
So of course I’m bleeding like Carrie on Prom night and am gassy with my healthy new diet. Thanks UNIVERSE!
Despite my war on manners and my Weekend Strike and making the Rules and feeling like telling everyone to fuck off; I got very humbled by my own children in this Parenting Regime. Each of them calling me at separate times over the last few days and confessing some pretty life challenging struggles. One is re focusing their life after a big wake up call, one is battling depression and eating disorder issues. Without taking away from their own experiences as separate people; I can’t help but feel I didn’t give them something I should of when they were small. I mothered badly somehow. Even in realizing that is a selfish position to take, ‘it’s all about me’ kind of attitude, a mother can’t help but feel that way. As parents we tend to take all the blame.
In some ways, this may be easier in a martyr-ing type of way; in an Italian Mother type of way. But really, in an accountability type of way, once we move out on our own we start making choices for ourselves. I would love to blame my mother for all of my issues right now. Or go to AA and ‘give it all to God’, but I don’t see any true accountability in any of that. Once we move out on our own, our decisions are up to us. Yes we may have learned things by good and/or bad parenting, but we can make up new things, discover our own paths and make new decisions once we are adults. There’s certainly nothing wrong in me reflecting on things I could’ve done better as a parent, but reflecting on what I can do better NOW is a much better use of my time. I love and support both of my grown children, I am always honest with them, and they are always honest and open with me, I appreciate that more than anything in the world and am proudest of that fact more than any other aspect of our relationship.
So, after quietly speaking to my kids and worrying like an Italian Mother, I confessed to Michael, ‘ I don’t know anything about parenting. I don’t know what I’m doing, I have two adult children in the world struggling, I know NOTHING.’ Eating a little crow after ranting and raving for three days, making my dumb lists and feeling like I was on a pedestal; I confessed to not knowing what the fuck I’m doing and cried.
This man gently lifted me up off of my pedestal, laid me down beside him, and told me simply, ‘None of us do.’ Adding that they (meaning our spawn) ‘are going to do whatever the fuck they want whenever the fuck they want no matter what we do.’
I kissed this man, forgave us both, and we moved on with our night.
THIS is parenting. It’s messy and sloppy, it’s a roller coaster of rewards and deep ditches of dark holes, it’s smiling and crying at the same time, and then you just eat ice cream and go to bed.
love you guys!!!