My kids are growing. Fast. The oldest is 29 and the youngest is 14. And while I’ll always be their mom, I don’t own them. They are each unique and I played a part in who they are, for good and bad. Once they become adults, it’s their life to live.
When they were younger I spent far too much time trying to tell them who to be and what to be. More time should’ve been spent asking who they are and want to be. It’s gotten better as they grow, but I fell into the trap of trying to put my expectations on them.
In the last few years, I’ve improved. I support them, I advise them, I advocate for them when I think it’s necessary. But mostly I just have their backs. Their backs, as they make their own decisions and plans.
Our kids need us to believe in them as capable, responsible humans, and we as parents need to trust that they own their hearts and souls, and we are simply there for their journeys.
I love them wholeheartedly and when my lease is up, I hope the damage is minimal. And that my investment in them was worth it.
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