I have been trying and trying to figure out what I wanted to say about this parenting milestone, my first kid making it to the HS graduation finish line. I've tried to come up with something that hasn't been said before and ha! It is impossible.
And so I land on what comes most naturally to me and that is to say thank you.
In no particular order but my own stream of conscious I offer thanks to-
My parents.
They taught me first and foremost to show up. Whether or not your kid actually graduates is beside the point. My oldest brother did not, but my parents kept showing up for him. I learned it does not matter if you understand your kid or not. The best thing to do is to show up. I cannot shout it from the rooftops enough. It doesn't matter who or what your kid does. It doesn't matter who you think they are or what they become. If they see you return to them, especially in difficult times, they will at least know, "Hey, they must love me. They keep showing up." That is exactly what I have done. I have loved hard (and sometimes failed hard) and showed up again, trying. In this case, I learned by example and that has been the gift of my lifetime.
My siblings and in-laws.
Having another family who has listened and watched and supported and loved my own kids and became another set of cheerleaders is icing on the cake. There really are never enough cheerleaders in a person's life. There has been love everywhere. It can feel embarrassing at times to have such riches. Some of our siblings are parents. Some are not. Each has offered their own way of being with my kids, and I just love knowing they have people outside of me who love them like I do.
My female friends.
The ears, the hearts, and the hands of women near and far who hold all the pain as only other women can. Pain? Maybe some of you are wondering. Yes, pain. Being a mother isn't for the faint of heart and if you've not yet encountered the teen years, head on back to that Baby and Me class or over to the elementary school art show and soak up the innocence and joy of a life where the problems of the day just might be covered in a book with helpful strategies that provide clear and defined outcomes. The teen years will defy all you thought you knew. I'm not trying to sound ominous but every single parent I know who dares to look and ask the hard questions simply shrugs as if to say, "What? I had NO idea." If you've not a network of support before the teen years, hustle on up and get yourself some. They will pull you through. They will stand sentinel with you on your darkest days and hold you and your child in light and keep you from teetering over the edge. If you do indeed teeter, they will pull you up. I am grateful to anyone who has had to sit on the other side of my urgent request, for every ear who has taken a lap around Lake Winona, for every reader who has carefully noted as I navigate my struggle on the page. And to any parent who has had the courage to admit to their own struggles with a simple 'me too' or 'I get it', you have no idea how freeing and relieving it can feel to know this experience isn't special. It's so easy to feel alone in parenting teens, but I was not. I am grateful beyond measure for being able to reach out when I could and to be held in silent support when I could not.
My husband.
He is facing his own sadness about his baby girl leaving his nest. She is his mirror image in so many ways. There is nothing more a mother could hope for than to have a husband whom their daughter feels is the gold standard for how to be a good person, how to work hard, how to play with abandon, and how to discuss and dig into ideas and share books and music and concerns and to be a helper without needing praise or accolades. Neither Bob or Lucy needs praise. They are so internally driven, and we all know I am the exact opposite. I marvel at these rare birds, and I also love them to pieces. And maybe she doesn't know quite yet that she has struck gold. She is, after all, an 18 year old girl. But I do. When I eavesdrop on their conversations, my heart is full to bursting because the gift of a girl who can laugh and share her heart with her dad is perhaps the best thing I could ever hope for.
My son.
Ben has been such a caring brother. I am certain Lucy doesn't see it this way. She may not for a long time. My son has a heart so big and so sweet, but please don't tell him I said that. If you think my powers of observation are strong, I cannot wait until he decides he is a writer because this kid! He has taught me about acceptance and love and patience and the fine line between pushing and nagging and nuance with words and how one little shift in perspective can change the whole game. He has helped me become a better parent to both of them because his needs and desires are so different. I cannot be one and done. I am not done, but I will do differently for him because he has taught me so.
My girl.
It might sound weird to thank the kid you have raised, but it takes two and I believe I am a better person today than I was 18 years ago when she arrived on the scene. We are not the same. I am loud and I can embarrass her simply by changing the tone of my voice in the check out line. She is cool and self-possessed and I sometimes have to coax the words out of her. Use your words! I say. She communicates by digging in and by doing and by not giving up and by showing herself IcanIcanIcan. When teachers have failed her, she has taught herself. And she has taught me that I can. I can do something if I really want to. She has also taught me there is always room for improvement when it comes to listening. I will never forget shortly after the 2016 election, the radio was replaying a speech by President Trump. I snapped it off in a juvenile fashion. She calmly reached over, turned it back on and said, "Mom, you have to listen." She was right and I have returned to that moment in my head a thousand times. It has inspired me to think often about how I want my kids to see me when I feel petty and angry and just not right. It stinks, sometimes, having to be the adult. They don't mention THAT in parenting books! They don't mention how you have to show up looking like you have it together and that how you share how you see the world will indeed have an impact on the kids you are raising. What will leave this house is a direct reflection of what is in the house. And so, darn... I do have to listen to things I don't always like and I do have to think about the why and what and who and how of so many of my choices because my kids will notice and my kids will ask. She has taught me that my choices matter. There are so many things about our particular journey that are not mine to share at this point, but I am ending where I started, which is to say I showed up and my daughter let me. She let me stay in the room when it was hard. She offered herself when she was scared and she let me hug her when maybe she didn't want one. And so she has showed up for me too, each of us doing what we could. I like to hope we are both better for it.
No one thinks about the hormonal adolescent days or the 18th birthday when their kid arrives in the world. There are stars in your eyes and big dreams and hopes for everything that will be. But it gets wonky because what I have learned is I cannot dream for my child. I cannot have wants for them because they will have their own. I can pave a way, but I can't tell them which way. I am her cheerleader. I am the adult who sets boundaries and standards yet in the end, they will do what they will do. I am the loudest voice saying, "Yes, I believe in you and yes, I believe you can. What matters more is you believe in you and you believe you can." I can have all the ideas and tools and suggestions, but in the end I am simply support staff with an endless supply of love. I have given more than I ever thought I had and then some.
I cannot say what will be next for my sweet girl, but I do know what has been is way more than any dream I may have had when she was born. And for that I am grateful beyond these words.
And so I land on what comes most naturally to me and that is to say thank you.
In no particular order but my own stream of conscious I offer thanks to-
My parents.
They taught me first and foremost to show up. Whether or not your kid actually graduates is beside the point. My oldest brother did not, but my parents kept showing up for him. I learned it does not matter if you understand your kid or not. The best thing to do is to show up. I cannot shout it from the rooftops enough. It doesn't matter who or what your kid does. It doesn't matter who you think they are or what they become. If they see you return to them, especially in difficult times, they will at least know, "Hey, they must love me. They keep showing up." That is exactly what I have done. I have loved hard (and sometimes failed hard) and showed up again, trying. In this case, I learned by example and that has been the gift of my lifetime.
My siblings and in-laws.
Having another family who has listened and watched and supported and loved my own kids and became another set of cheerleaders is icing on the cake. There really are never enough cheerleaders in a person's life. There has been love everywhere. It can feel embarrassing at times to have such riches. Some of our siblings are parents. Some are not. Each has offered their own way of being with my kids, and I just love knowing they have people outside of me who love them like I do.
My female friends.
The ears, the hearts, and the hands of women near and far who hold all the pain as only other women can. Pain? Maybe some of you are wondering. Yes, pain. Being a mother isn't for the faint of heart and if you've not yet encountered the teen years, head on back to that Baby and Me class or over to the elementary school art show and soak up the innocence and joy of a life where the problems of the day just might be covered in a book with helpful strategies that provide clear and defined outcomes. The teen years will defy all you thought you knew. I'm not trying to sound ominous but every single parent I know who dares to look and ask the hard questions simply shrugs as if to say, "What? I had NO idea." If you've not a network of support before the teen years, hustle on up and get yourself some. They will pull you through. They will stand sentinel with you on your darkest days and hold you and your child in light and keep you from teetering over the edge. If you do indeed teeter, they will pull you up. I am grateful to anyone who has had to sit on the other side of my urgent request, for every ear who has taken a lap around Lake Winona, for every reader who has carefully noted as I navigate my struggle on the page. And to any parent who has had the courage to admit to their own struggles with a simple 'me too' or 'I get it', you have no idea how freeing and relieving it can feel to know this experience isn't special. It's so easy to feel alone in parenting teens, but I was not. I am grateful beyond measure for being able to reach out when I could and to be held in silent support when I could not.
My husband.
He is facing his own sadness about his baby girl leaving his nest. She is his mirror image in so many ways. There is nothing more a mother could hope for than to have a husband whom their daughter feels is the gold standard for how to be a good person, how to work hard, how to play with abandon, and how to discuss and dig into ideas and share books and music and concerns and to be a helper without needing praise or accolades. Neither Bob or Lucy needs praise. They are so internally driven, and we all know I am the exact opposite. I marvel at these rare birds, and I also love them to pieces. And maybe she doesn't know quite yet that she has struck gold. She is, after all, an 18 year old girl. But I do. When I eavesdrop on their conversations, my heart is full to bursting because the gift of a girl who can laugh and share her heart with her dad is perhaps the best thing I could ever hope for.
My son.
Ben has been such a caring brother. I am certain Lucy doesn't see it this way. She may not for a long time. My son has a heart so big and so sweet, but please don't tell him I said that. If you think my powers of observation are strong, I cannot wait until he decides he is a writer because this kid! He has taught me about acceptance and love and patience and the fine line between pushing and nagging and nuance with words and how one little shift in perspective can change the whole game. He has helped me become a better parent to both of them because his needs and desires are so different. I cannot be one and done. I am not done, but I will do differently for him because he has taught me so.
My girl.
It might sound weird to thank the kid you have raised, but it takes two and I believe I am a better person today than I was 18 years ago when she arrived on the scene. We are not the same. I am loud and I can embarrass her simply by changing the tone of my voice in the check out line. She is cool and self-possessed and I sometimes have to coax the words out of her. Use your words! I say. She communicates by digging in and by doing and by not giving up and by showing herself IcanIcanIcan. When teachers have failed her, she has taught herself. And she has taught me that I can. I can do something if I really want to. She has also taught me there is always room for improvement when it comes to listening. I will never forget shortly after the 2016 election, the radio was replaying a speech by President Trump. I snapped it off in a juvenile fashion. She calmly reached over, turned it back on and said, "Mom, you have to listen." She was right and I have returned to that moment in my head a thousand times. It has inspired me to think often about how I want my kids to see me when I feel petty and angry and just not right. It stinks, sometimes, having to be the adult. They don't mention THAT in parenting books! They don't mention how you have to show up looking like you have it together and that how you share how you see the world will indeed have an impact on the kids you are raising. What will leave this house is a direct reflection of what is in the house. And so, darn... I do have to listen to things I don't always like and I do have to think about the why and what and who and how of so many of my choices because my kids will notice and my kids will ask. She has taught me that my choices matter. There are so many things about our particular journey that are not mine to share at this point, but I am ending where I started, which is to say I showed up and my daughter let me. She let me stay in the room when it was hard. She offered herself when she was scared and she let me hug her when maybe she didn't want one. And so she has showed up for me too, each of us doing what we could. I like to hope we are both better for it.
No one thinks about the hormonal adolescent days or the 18th birthday when their kid arrives in the world. There are stars in your eyes and big dreams and hopes for everything that will be. But it gets wonky because what I have learned is I cannot dream for my child. I cannot have wants for them because they will have their own. I can pave a way, but I can't tell them which way. I am her cheerleader. I am the adult who sets boundaries and standards yet in the end, they will do what they will do. I am the loudest voice saying, "Yes, I believe in you and yes, I believe you can. What matters more is you believe in you and you believe you can." I can have all the ideas and tools and suggestions, but in the end I am simply support staff with an endless supply of love. I have given more than I ever thought I had and then some.
I cannot say what will be next for my sweet girl, but I do know what has been is way more than any dream I may have had when she was born. And for that I am grateful beyond these words.
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