Saturday was a difficult day for me. Matt and Cindy are both enrolled in college classes this fall, and I knew that their first Philosophy paper was due Saturday night--along with a big test over the first unit--and I was worried because when I spoke to them on Friday, they still hadn't finished either. I avoided giving them a lecture on the consequences of procrastination, instead encouraging them to call me for help--regardless of what time it was or how close to the deadline they finished.
So Saturday rolled around, and I tried not to think about it. I puttered through my day, took the dog for a walk. Watched a movie with my husband. Tried not to watch the clock. I finally broke down and called around 3pm (my time), and Matt assured me that they had everything under control, that they would call if they needed me.
They never called.
I went to bed Saturday night, my mind racing in big loops that had me staring at the dark ceiling until close to 2am. Matt finally called the next day: they had both finished their papers and tests and turned them in on time, and had both earned perfectly respectable grades (I suppose it's easy to grade assignments really quickly when you don't write a SINGLE comment, but simply post a score...but that's a whole other rant.) I read Matt's paper, and was really impressed with the quality of his ideas about choosing "The Middle Path" and with his structure, style, and tone; it was just a bit short of the minimum length requirement, which is what prevented him from earning an "A."
And Matt was thrilled. Proud. He'd done it all on his own, and he'd succeeded. When he asked for his dad so he could tell him all about it was when the realization hit me...
It was better for him if he could do it for himself and get a decent grade than it would have been to have my help and received a perfect grade. This was perhaps my greatest downfall as a parent--that I had trouble letting go, letting them succeed or fail on their own. After all, I reasoned, with my help, I could ensure their success. What I didn't realize was that in their minds, it then became my success, and actually undermined their confidence in their own ability to succeed on their own.
What's frustrating is that I'm coming to this conclusion now, when they're 19 and (almost) 22. You know that old cliche about hindsight being 20/20? So true. Four years after he grew up and left home, and four months after the birth of his first child, I'm finally learning the importance of letting go...
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I'm not sure that I can even relate to this particular concept of letting go. I just had to send Maisey back to bed at 10 because she has decided that she doesn't like going to bed. I can't get Brad to brush his teeth without being told and right now I can't even imagine how you begin to let go when you spend all of their lives holding on.
On the other hand I'm having to learn how to let go of a lot of things right now...as are you and it seems to me that I can fight it as much as I want. I can rail against the systems, the world, fate, God, goddess, whatever/whomever might have some kind of grand plan or I can accept that there are times in our lives, there are moments when we don't have control and we have to let go and move on.
Ultimately we are only responsible for being the best we can be at any given moment. Right now both of us are faced with circumstances that feel unfair, that are forcing us to make decisions that we wouldn't want to make given any factor being removed. We can jump up and down and beat our fists against the wall (and I am in some kind of three year old tantrum) but that doesn't help anything. It feels good momentarily but the situation is still what it is and we can't change it. So we do the best with what we've got...we take the consequences of our circumstances and we get up the next day trying...always trying.
I hope that soon I can learn to let go. I hope that I can learn to be okay with the unfair and learn that sometimes I may need to learn the lessons Matt and Cindy are learning as new parents/students and that you are learning from this phase of your life. I hope that I get there but I don't think its going to happen tonight.
Doris Day sang it a long time ago:
Que sera, sera.
Whatever will be, will be.
The future's not ours to see.
Que sera, sera.
Scary admission: This is why so many people my age go around saying, "Que sera." Yes, we're quoting Doris Day. Life philosophy courtesy of a blond movie star.
But it's true. Que sera, sera. You can only interrupt life so much. But the message here, in Kacie's post, is that there are times when we shouldn't interrupt life. Let it roll on. Let others learn their own lessons, and in doing so, teach us.
OOOOH! That's good. Let others learn their own lessons, and in doing so, teach us. Well, that's my brilliance for the day.
I also refer you to the Desiderata, which is incredible. Just incredible. If you haven't read it, or haven't read it lately, do so. It'll knock your sockies off.
Lisa, you have to remind your children about sleeping and brushing their teeth until they leave home. Sorry. Oddly, though, they remember to eat...and talk to their friends...and eat...and talk to their friends...and eat....
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