loving art, science and creative kids

The Studio

As devoted parents my husband and I enrolled our children in every type of enrichment program imaginable. Our goal was to train them to be independent creative people. Once they werepushed out of the nest, though, I missed them.

Acrylic on Canvas/$ 399

                                                                                                      Do You Need a Mother?

  Two weeks ago I bought a t-shirt that says, “O My Gosh, My mother really does know everything.” I bought it to wear to Shift Festival, an annual  music fair my youngest son puts on in Central Oregon. He had asked me to set up a booth called, “Do You Need A Mother?” I said yes. Along with conversation and relaxation on old sofas and camping chairs, there will be a craft table so visitors can let out their inner child. Spiked ice tea will also be served with strong doses of motherly advice available.

But, as I began preparing for the event, I started to question whether adults still need their mothers. My adult children love me, but they certainly don’t need me. They are surrounded by spouses, friends and children who enrich their lives. What they appear to want from me is an occasional listening ear, a companion when it’s convenient, and someone to brag to when they or their children reach a milestone achievement. They want me to be a proud mother, which is easy. I have a Garrison Keiller type family “where the women are strong, the men are good-looking, and all the children are above average.” 

  As a young mother, I read the latest child rearing books, became a Montessori parent and enrolled my children in every imaginable enrichment program I could find to stimulate their curiosity. They danced, learned karate, did gymnastics, played instruments, studied art, and became computer literate well before computers were routinely used in schools. I thought of myself as “supermom.” I was determined to insure that nothing hurt my children while on my watch.  I was 100 percent happy driving them from activity to activity, baking cookies and washing up after them.  It was just part of the deal of being Mom.

If they struggled reading—we read out-loud until they did so with ease. When a daughter was bullied—an older child was sent to accompany her to school. I coddled, pushed, pampered and protected them in every way I could. You might imagine my surprise when they became teens and started to push back. Seemingly overnight their friends became more important, and I was marginalized. 

As the decades passed, my family was challenged by unexpected occurrences. Cancer, accidents, mental episodes, divorce and a handicapped child created worries beyond imagination. When I was  involved in their difficulties, nothing else mattered. But as they aged and became more independent, I began to be relegated to the role of helpless bystander.  Being on the edges I found to be difficult, for I’m a problem solver. My nature is that of a fixer who makes everything right.

So, in preparation for the festival,  I asked a thirty-year-old attendee if she needs a mother? Her response was, “All I need are hugs.” Five other young-adults sitting nearby shook their heads in agreement. Then my son told me something that rang true. He said that the reason he was able to take  risks was because he knew that his father and I would be there to pick him up if he failed. His trust that our love would never disappear enabled him to be an entrepreneur and to inspire a community of friends interested  in art and technology.

Over the years, I’ve come to acknowledge the unpredictability of life. There are good parts and bad, ups and downs. I can’t protect my children from all harm and realize they deserve to try things on their own, even if it is dangerous. They have the right to make mistakes. So, I bought another t-shirt to wear at the festival, “JUST BE YOU.”  I see now that the only gift I can give is that of love—unconditional, unshakable love. 

However, I can also be a tree with many branches. Roots will hold me firm so that my children know where to find me.  They will visit, hopefully often but I know they won't stay. They will swing free of my branches and fly off to test themselves and discover just who they are. They were trained to be survivors, independent of their parents. That is how it should be.

So now, if they develop  problems that worry me—ones outside of my control, I know exactly what I will do. l will relax and wear my latest shirt, “HEAVILY MEDITATED.” That works.

Do comment below and share how you interact with your adult children and/or your parents. Do you need them? Do they need you? 

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