Some of us just like to be there- all the time.
Like the mom in the classic children’s book Love You Forever, who breaks and enters her adult son’s house in order to rock the sleeping man while and sing of her love, we had kids and now we need to be there, always loving, always singing, and always rocking.
(Sorry if I just ruined your favorite book. But if you aren’t sure if that mom crossed a line, imagine waking up to your mother-in-law rocking your husband by your bed. See? Told you.)
As a mom who homeschools part-time, I have ample opportunity to be there. I am really good at refereeing my children’s fights. I am stellar at planning and executing their school projects that I have assigned. I can kiss all their booboos, google all their ridiculous questions, and empathize with all their dilemmas.
Like a good neighbor, this mama is there.
Like GI Joe, wherever there’s trouble, I’m there.
Like a potential psychopathic ghostly stalker, I’m theeeeerrrrre.
Let’s be real, between the sexual predators, the school shootings, and the media onslaught of violent and sexual images, we do have to be “there” a lot more than parents of past generations.
But this week, my boys’ school had a field trip planned to Sea World- two whole hours away. My boys wouldn’t even be together, they were to ride in separate cars with classmates. I couldn’t chaperone because the Lady is too young to go.
I was a little nervous because I wouldn’t be there.
Then the weather forecast predicted thunder storms.
Oh my Lawsy. They will end up in a ditch somewhere, without snacks. The storm will take down all available cell phone towers, so the chaperone will have to walk twenty miles to an IHOP, while the children will now be targets for evil travelers on a trip to Waco, kidnappers heading to Mexico, or zombies from space. I mean, a whole host of horrible events could happen!!
No, seriously, countless unplanned things could go wrong. That was a fact, and I was stuck with this question: What is a mama who can’t be there to do?
I opened my new favorite parenting book, The Christian Mama’s Guide to the School Age Years, and read the chapter on letting go. (Seriously, read this book. So good!) In an honest, sweet and humorous way, the book got to the root of my problem: I hold on a little too tight.
Even worse: I like holding on a little too tight.
When you mix the homeschooling control I have maintained with all the horrific information I have about the world, the result is that I am kind of comfortable here, with a life in which I can reign supreme as the source for all my kids need: food, clothing, advice, education, comfort, and solutions.
That was fine when they were toddlers, and even kindergarteners, but they are big kids now. It’s time to for me to grow up a little, too.
Here are the 5 steps I’m taking toward letting go:
1. State my opinion only when asked, and then back off. If they take that opinion as advice, great. If not, well, we’ll just all see where that road leads.
2. My new catchphrase: “Everything will be just fine!” I will fake it ’till I make it. I’ll believe it before I see it. I will have to trust God and my kids a lot more. But don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine!!! (See how far I’ve come?)
3. Let them go to (safe) places by themselves. Such as a field trip to Sea World, or to the toy aisle in Target. Since these two places are so obviously not that scary, you now know how deep the rabbit hole goes. I am also considering letting my eldest ride his bike around the neighborhood without me. (After typing that, I have butterflies in my gut. Lord, help me.)
4. Spend more time praying for my children. If my big kids are going to play unsupervised in the front yard for thirty minutes in our very safe neighborhood, I’m obviously trying the parenting equivalent of walking on water, and therefore I will need more faith.
5. Tell them they can do it, and then let them try on their own. By stepping in and fixing their (already) near-perfect lives, and constantly advising them on the best ways to do things, I have (already) told them in countless ways that they can’t do it. It will take a good dose of encouragement and cheering to convince my co-dependent sweeties that try or fail, they will be okay. I may even (gasp!) have to send them away to pray and ask God for help if they hit a tough situation.
At the heart of this lesson for me is the admission that I am not my children’s savior. It is with great relief that I announce to the world that I am not Jesus. By setting myself up as the source for all they need, I leave very little space for God to show them who He can be, and who He has made them to be.
I admit I cried when I left the school after dropping the boys off for Sea World. It was raining and cold, but Boy 1 was in shorts because the weather app on my phone is total junk, obviously. I felt insecure about their comfort, concerned for their little cold selves, and sad that they were driving down the interstate without me. I have a long way to go.
I’m hoping that as I hover less, I will relax a little more. I’m hoping I can enjoy our life without feeling the pressure to make sure everyone is perfectly okay. I’m expecting to fail, hoping to succeed, yearning to grow, striving to learn, and loving the act of trusting God in all things.
I can think of a million things that might go wrong now that I’m stepping back, and it’s scary.
But we all know that really, in the end, everything will be just fine. Or at the very least I will never be arrested for breaking into my grown children’s homes to rock them at 2am; which is a comforting thought to hold on to.
