About the time I started college, I recall a change happening in my home. My family would all get together for some holiday and the dinnertime conversation would turn to tales of our childhood. For years, it seemed like each holiday, someone would make a confession about “what really happened.” Most of these came from my brother. Actually maybe they all came from my brother. Confessions were made about how the grandfather clock really got broken or what really happened to that lost retainer. Stories were told about igniting a line of black powder or the time one unnamed person chased their incredibly sweet, but possibly annoying middle school age sister around the house threatening to stab them with scissors.
Family dynamics changed. Fear of punishment was gone. Enough distance had occurred to make scary or dangerous stories funny. Even our parents, at times, would share stories about their own indiscretions that they would never have shared with their younger children.
Most of my own children have now reached adulthood. My relationship with my kids is changing, as it should be. This past week my daughter came home to visit for my birthday. Our family sat around sharing stories that I might not have completely wanted to hear, but I was glad my kids felt comfortable enough to share. We laughed. I’m a little scarred. It was good.
I wish my kids would have been more open with me during their younger teen years.
I wish I had made them feel safe enough to open up.
I wish I had controlled my emotions, put on a poker face, and listened better.
I wish I hadn’t lectured or nit-picked so much.
I can’t turn back time, so I need to move on from here. I am looking forward to building adult relationships with my kids. I’m not one of these people who wants to be best friends with my kids, but not because I don’t love them deeply. I’m going to be honest, I don’t want to know everything. I would definitely prefer them to share the gory details with their friends. But I want to be able to talk about real things. I still want them to share their struggles, seek my advice, come to me with their life plans. I don’t want them to feel like they need to hide things from me. I want a relationship built on love, trust, and honestly.
Parenting and loving your adult children can be challenging. It’s certainly different than it was when they were kids or teens. Yet, you’ll likely spend far more time loving your kids through their adulthood than their childhood. It’s exciting and wonderful and I intend to enjoy the freedom that comes with this new stage in life.
