If you’re a parent, you know; if you’re not a parent, you were at one point a child, then a tween, then a teen, so, still, you know. You know that sometimes, no matter how old you are, you just need your mama. Nothing and no one else will do. For example, I remember when I was in college and I was struggling with several things all at the same time, and while I felt like I should be able to figure it all out, I knew that wasn’t happening. So, what did I do? I called my mom, of course. There’s just something about a mama’s words, her comfort, her perspective that can help shift our way of seeing things. For me, that day on the phone, I was able to take some deep breaths and process through what seemed an insurmountable amount of stress and emotional distress to create a plan.
And now? I love that I get to be on the receiving end of those types of calls (even if they are not specifically telephone calls). Even more, I love that my girls allow me that kind of access to their inner world, to their needs and their hurts and their uncertainty. In other words, I appreciate their willingness to trust me. While that trust doesn’t always look like I expect, I am always deeply aware of its existence between us.
As neurodivergent people, my girls and I communicate in our own unique ways. This often translates into having to understand how comfort or encouraging words are being received. Sometimes, we have to sit with circumstances or words (or both) in order to process them fully. All this to say, at times, the ways my girls trust me is by sharing frustration or annoyance, even evading my initial inquiry about what’s bothering them. But, unlike when they were younger, they have a willingness to hover around where I am, letting me know my hunch that something is on their mind is correct.
I have learned to prop open the door of conversation rather than use a battering ram approach like I have done too often in the past. Part of my learning curve involves my girls. They have provided me the opportunity to course correct when necessary and have allowed me to grow in my parenting. Like me, you are probably familiar with the idea that when we know better we do better. That sums up parenting about as accurately as anything. As we all know, when they hand you that baby in the hospital, they don’t provide you any sort of owner’s manual or instruction booklet; it’s pretty much a learn-as-you-go sort of journey. So we have. And one of the greatest teachers we’ve had along the way are our two teenagers. Even as younger children they provided instruction for the ways to support them and encourage them, not so much with words, but in their responses. Those responses look different now, and more often than not include conversation as much as emotional responses. Still, I’ve found my willingness to listen to my girls the best source of parenting advice.
At this point in their lives, I doubt my 14 and 17 year olds see themselves as sources of inspiration, encouragement, or instruction. But they are. It is their willingness and ability to trust us with their desires, dreams, hurts, fears, and insecurities that has opened the doors of connection and allowed us to build a strong relational foundation with them. And, it is our desire to meet them where they are that has invited them to that openness. It is something for which I am deeply grateful every day. To the best of my ability I will continue to create a nurturing space where they can test ideas and boundaries, where they can try on different personality traits and dreams, and where they can stumble and even fail spectacularly and know they are loved no matter what. May they always know they can call me or call on me, and I will answer. May they always know, parenting is as much a learning journey as growing up can seem like, and we are all in this together.