I fondly remember the days of sleep deprivation from crying babies. Of cleaning up vomit. Of gagging through diaper after diaper of stinky baby shit. First, let me say, I have never been one of those mothers who thought their baby’s shit didn’t stink. Changing diapers was more than a chore, it was a lesson in breathing through the mouth so I wouldn’t puke right into that shitty diaper.

I look back with trepidation at the fact that I longed for my babies to be older, more independent, able to dress themselves and make their own breakfast. What a fool I was, wishing away the simplest time in my chidlren’s lives. When their every comfort was dependent upon me.

I contemplate the angst I have put myself through worrying over a rugrat’s struggling academics. Enforcing rules, and establishing routine. All of this seems like a cake walk now.

The hardest lesson I’m learning is standing by and watching my adult child make some of the same mistakes I’ve made. Of seeing my adult child go through the consequences of his actions, that reach years into his future.

Baby shit can’t hold a candle to seeing your adult child heading for various disasters, trying to intervene and having your advice thrown back in your face. Looking into your once baby’s face to see indifference and a smug know-it-all gleam in their eyes. Being accused of trying to interfere in his life and fun, knowing he is headed for a day of reckoning.

It goes against the Mommy mentality to stand by and watch as the shit hits the proverbial fan. It goes against the Mommy mentality to not rush in and try and save the day. To stand by and watch as consequences make your once-baby’s life more difficult. To see the uphill battle of life get steeper for him. Honestly it rips your heart to peices.

I know a young adult has to learn the lessons that come with irresponsible behavior. They have to feel the consequences of their actions, in order to learn from them and pull themselves out of the self-made mess they created.

The lessons in life can be hard and made harder by our own bad choices. The lesson I’m only now learning, that maybe I should have learned earlier in my children’s lives, is to not hop in and make it all better. To not hand a twenty dollar bill to an adult child to try and make things a little nicer.

I know I have made my share of mistakes as a parent. And as a parent you can’t help but worry the mistakes they make are not directly tied to your parenting. Feeling guilty doesn’t change the facts. Trying to bury that guilt with money and gifts, may lead to hurting them more.

Standing by and not bailing your kids out, but allowing them to do it for themselves, is the hardest lesson I’m only now working on. Seeng your predictions and warnings come home to roost, is not a good feeling. 

Tough Love. I’ve heard that expression thrown around for decades now. I started reading the book by that title years ago, although I can’t remember much about it now. I am coming to the conclusion, though, that tough love is by far harder on the parent than the adult child.

Tough love may be the only way to get through to some kids. Coming to the realization that your adult child in some ways is more like you than you would want for them. That they may very well be the type of person who will only learn from their own mistakes, and the consequences they endure.

Watching them make mistakes, remembering not to throw the proverbail baby out with the bath water, is another lesson I struggle with. Trying to remember all the wonderful qualities in your child that make you proud of him or her. Balance.

Remembering that he is, or can be, compassionate and kind hearted. That he doesn’t do drugs and drink. That he isn’t out prowling around for various women to use. His sense of humor that delights you when you least expect it. Balance.

Remembering that not bailing them out may be the most loving thing you can do for them. And that bailing them out may very well hurt their future indefinitely.

Being a parent means letting them struggle up that steep hill they created. If for no other reason than to allow them the opportunity to feel pride in overcoming those obstacles. To know they dug themselves out, and that they are indeed much stronger and capable than not only you, but than they thought themselves to be.

My once-baby is an adult. Adult enough to push me away, and block my advice or concerns. This makes him adult enough to take it all on. Not just the good but the bad as well. And gives him the opportunity to prove himself.

But it’s still the hardest lesson I’m learning.