Parenting my adult children

I’d like to be friends with my adult children. I was friends with my mother and when I had a daughter, I was thrilled! I’d have a grown daughter to pal around with!
I have two grown children. My relationship is different with my son than with my daughter. My daughter and I talk virtually every day, sometimes several times a day. We’re never at a loss for things to tell one another. First, of course, I can talk about (and to) my grandchildren at the drop of a hat. Then, there are the other usual things: life, food, relationships, work, home, politics and anything else .
If more than a day goes by that I don’t hear from her, I begin to worry. She tells me that she’s fine and that I don’t have to worry, she can take care of herself and her family. I know this, of course. I’m not so nuts as to think otherwise. I raised her to be independent and smart, to be able to tell a person’s true character, to choose her friends wisely, to make her own decisions. So I am quite pleased that she has done so.
Nothing is more important to me than my family. Nothing. From the day they were born, I felt so lucky to have these two as my children.
So, it stands to reason that they can hurt me with just a word, a look, a sigh or a roll of the eyes. The dreaded multisyllabic “Mommmm”… I too, am a strong, independent woman. Over time I have come to realize that when they talk to me, they aren’t asking for my advice, they are just asking me to listen to them. So, I’ve stopped giving out unrequested advice. I’m there when they ask for my brilliant and wide-ranging knowledge, of course, but I don’t volunteer it anymore. Most of the time, anyway…
My daughter probably doesn’t realize that this has happened, but I am very conscious of it. My daughter still thinks that I criticize her - that I think that she is incompetent. Nothing could be further from the truth. I watch in awe at her grace as she raises three quite incredible, lovely children. She confesses that she yells at them as if this is something odd. Oh! She’s not the perfect mother! Oh no! Well, I think that she’s pretty perfect. Her children blossom, they too are strong, independent little ones. I see my granddaughter , now almost 6, behaving very much the way my daughter did at her age. So smart and opinionated, so self-assured from birth. Always testing, testing. Fearless. She expects everyone to like her. She is learning to be a good friend, but she’ll find out that not everyone will like her. I would like to protect her from being hurt, but of course I won’t be able to do that. And, she will finally discover, as I have, that very few people will truly be her friends and that those will be precious indeed. But those few will be all that she will need.
What about my son? Well, he’s 28 now. He is, I have always said, the smartest person I know. He is articulate on virtually any subject. He is passionate about the environment, solar energy in particular. He has a good job now, with a great company. Someday he may decide to go back to college. For now I have stopped nagging him about it.
But, again, I know that he will be just fine. He is very like his father in some ways. He is not talkative on the phone. I play 20 questions with him, then I remember to ask open-ended questions to get the conversation rolling. Our phone conversations are much less frequent. We speak every few weeks. He says that he’s busy. Well, I say, we’re all busy. He is very sensitive. He used to get very upset when I raised my voice. Even now, he’s very sensitive to the tone of my voice. I am aware of this and consciously modulate my voice when I speak to him. But he is sharp and witty and can be sarcastic, all things I was, too. But I have learned to stifle my sharp comments now, seeing their effect on people I care about.
So, those are my thoughts today on my children. If only we could pass on our knowledge to our children so that they don’t make the mistakes we made…Sadly, no.