My 5 kids are all adults. It’s tough to stay relevant in their lives.
In a heartfelt reflection on the evolving dynamics of parenting, the author explores the bittersweet transition from actively raising children to observing them as independent adults. After moving to California to stay close to her five children, she describes her journey through the various stages of motherhood, likening her role to that of a theater spectator. Initially, she was the prompter, guiding her children through their early years, but as they grew, she found herself in the upper balcony, watching their lives unfold from a distance. This metaphor encapsulates the emotional complexity of parenting as children mature, highlighting both the joy of witnessing their growth and the pangs of longing for the chaos of family life when they were younger.
The author recalls the early days of her children’s independence, filled with phone calls seeking advice on everything from cooking to dealing with household pests. These moments, while tinged with nostalgia, also reinforced the bond they shared. However, as her children settled into adulthood, their need for her guidance diminished, leaving her to grapple with feelings of irrelevance. Despite this, she took proactive steps to maintain her connection, relocating to be nearer to them. The move was a symbol of her commitment to remaining a part of their lives, even as they formed their own identities and relationships.
Today, her children’s partners play a significant role in maintaining her relevance within the family dynamic. The author shares how she now communicates more frequently with her children’s significant others, who have become vital links in the family chain. This shift not only fosters new relationships but also enriches her experience as a mother, as she embraces her role from a different vantage point. While she acknowledges that she may never hold the same central place in their lives as she once did, she finds comfort in knowing that she is still a cherished presence, enjoying the unfolding story of her children’s lives from the balcony. This poignant narrative serves as a reminder that parenting evolves, but the love and connection remain steadfast, adapting to the new roles each family member plays in the ongoing performance of life.
The author says that parenting adults is hard and sweet.
Ekaterina Vasileva-Bagler/Getty Images
As my kids grew into adulthood, my relationship with them changed.
I moved to California to stay connected with them, as they started dating and getting married.
I now watch them be the people they’ve become.
I found my favorite
description of parenting
in a novel I read a few years ago. The author’s definition of what it means to raise kids to adulthood was perfect.
The story’s main character pictures herself in a theatre and explains that when your child is very young, you are in the prompter’s box, located in the
orchestra pit
, directing the play. Then you move to the first few rows of seats and become a prominent member of the audience. Eventually, you end up on the balcony, where you can observe the play but are less involved in the actual production.
The author says her role as her kids grow up has changed.
Courtesy of the author
That’s me today. After devoting decades to raising five children,
always prioritizing their needs over mine
, I’m now in those upper rows watching their lives play out. I miss the years of living in the controlled chaos of our large family and yearn to stay relevant.
At 18, they still needed me
As each one headed out the door to college, I cried buckets of tears and wondered what this next chapter would look like for all of us. They called often during those first few weeks on their own. They asked things like “How do I make
boxed mac and cheese
?” or “How do I kill the cockroaches in my shower?” and “What should I take for a cold?”
The author says her kids still needed her even when they were in college.
Courtesy of the author
The more comfortable they became away from home, the fewer times they checked in, so I was thrilled each time the phone rang. I spoke with my oldest almost every day. After an unproductive semester in college, he
moved across the country
. He gave me three days’ notice before departing, but I didn’t try to stop him. I’d done the same thing when I was 19, and honestly, it was the best decision both he and I ever made.
As he began exploring life as a newly formed adult, he still yearned for a tether to me, his mom. We had some of the best conversations during his early years away from home. We were two grown-ups comparing life experiences, expressing opinions, and truly getting to know each other on a whole new level. On the morning he called to tell me someone had thrown a rock through the window of his ground-floor apartment, he was my little boy again. I wanted to comfort him with more than words, but I felt helpless 3,000 miles away. He recovered from the shock and fright, and when he moved to another apartment, I flew out to help him settle in.
In their 20s,
they didn’t need me as much
My world started to feel very narrow as theirs broadened after college graduation. I was proud of all they were achieving on their own. Of course, I took credit for raising these independent, successful adults, but now that they no longer needed me, I wondered if they still wanted me.
None of my children has a
relationship with their father
. It was easy for them to disconnect from him, but was that going to happen to me, too? Not if I could help it.
When four of the five relocated to the West Coast, I decided to follow. In my ideal world, we’d all live within walking distance of each other.
When I arrived in California, my kids were thrilled to see me. After helping me unpack, one son said, “I’m taking you to brunch. A guy just needs to spend time with his mother.”
But even in proximity, it wasn’t the same. I was no longer
the queen of their universe.
Their relationships make me relevant
Each of them is in a committed relationship; two are married. It’s an unwritten rule that when they get serious, it is my child who gives their partner my contact information. That’s a defining moment for all of us as these significant others begin to build a connection with me. And they are the ones who are making me relevant in my children’s lives today.
Many of our text chain conversations, get-togethers, and
family events
begin with them. Often, I bypass my own sons, who are frequently unresponsive, and text the wives and girlfriends directly. They always answer. Now they’re connecting me with their mothers, and we’re creating an ever-widening circle.
I may never be as relevant to my children now as I was when they were young, but they know I’m always available, sitting in the upper level of the balcony, enjoying the play.
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