Kristy Kelly: Adult children are the worst

Kristy Kelly: Adult children are the worst

There is nothing worse, as a mother, than when your grown child presents you with a problem that your experience could easily resolve, only to refuse any semblance of advice or parental wisdom. The amount of time you get to prepare your children for life is far briefer than you ever expect. One minute theyโ€™re running around in diapers and seeking your guidance in all things, and the next, theyโ€™re married with three children, living halfway across the country.

As the mother of four, Iโ€™m constantly amazed at how different their approach to life is. My youngest son recently graduated from Lenoir Community College with an Associate's degree in Mechanical Engineeringโ€”the first of my children to earn a degree. He still lives at home, but I know itโ€™s only a matter of time before he starts his own adventures. Yet, he seems to think employers are lining up, waiting to hire him. His lackadaisical perspective on his future drives his neurotic mother crazy. Heโ€™ll line up to volunteer and help someone else, but he wonโ€™t prioritize his own needs.

Then thereโ€™s my middle son. This boy has been Hell on Wheels since birth. Every pearl-clutching moment Iโ€™ve had as a parent started and ended with him saying, โ€œGuess what I just did.โ€ He was the boy-equivalent of โ€œhold my beer.โ€ I should have known heโ€™d be an interesting human when, at 18 months old, he took the hydraulic off the screen door with a screwdriver and insatiable curiosity. For the next seventeen years, he dismantled most of my appliances and electronics. Now, he only calls when someoneโ€”usually meโ€”has guilted him into realizing he hasnโ€™t talked to his mother in a few weeks, or if he needs money, which prompts regular phone calls or at least a handful of text messages. He put his life on hold to help his older sister, and while Iโ€™m beyond grateful for the sacrifices he continues to make, I wish heโ€™d put himself first once in a while.

My middle daughter is the most perplexing. This young woman can stand toe-to-toe with the worst of humanity and force them to submit to her will, yet she continuously allows herself to be taken advantage ofโ€”sometimes even volunteering for it. As a young mother of three, it infuriates me that she cannot put herself first, or at least somewhere in the lineup. Though I must admit, I know where that behavior comes fromโ€”pot, meet kettle. Sheโ€™s an amazing mother whose children bring her boundless joy and endless worry. If only she loved herself as much as she loves them. I constantly feel the need to protect her more than my sons because her heart is on display all the time for others in need.

Finally, thereโ€™s my eldest. We grew up together. Every adventure I had as a young adult, she was along for the ride as my mini ride-or-die. If a mistake was to be made, I made it with her in tow. As she got older and started to pull away, I clung so tightly I probably left proverbial bruises. In true offspring fashion, she bolted as soon as she could and moved to California. Life brought her back home, giving me hope that Iโ€™ll still be needed, even if only in short spurts. Sheโ€™s more like me than sheโ€™d ever admit, with the primary difference being how we handle conflict. Iโ€™m a โ€œletโ€™s talk it outโ€ person, while she is a โ€œburn it all down and let God sort it outโ€ person.

Itโ€™s interesting how much of myself I see in my children. Some of the best parts of their personality stemmed from the worst parts of mine. Their perception of me has shaped a lot of what they do. All four of my children are confrontational because their mother was not. They are all incredibly empathetic, often to their own detrimentโ€”another gift from dear old mom. I canโ€™t take all the credit for who theyโ€™ve become, but as their sole parent, Iโ€™m claiming most of it. Iโ€™m so proud of who they are as people, as siblings, as my sons and daughters. Most of all, Iโ€™m proud of the confidence with which they live their lives. Itโ€™s on their terms, or not at all.

Perhaps, instead of wanting to teach them, I should be learning from them.


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