Jude
09-24-2001, 07:03 AM
IT'S THEIR LIVES...
Is there a magic cutoff period when offspring
become accountable for their own actions?
Is there a wonderful moment when parents can
become detached spectators in the lives of their
children and shrug, "It's their lives," and feel
nothing?
When I was in my twenties, I stood in a hospital
corridor waiting for doctors to put a few stitches
in my son's head. I asked, "When do you stop
worrying?"
The nurse said, "When they get out of the accident
stage." My mother just smiled faintly and said
nothing.
When I was in my thirties, I sat on a little chair in
a classroom and heard how one of my children
talked incessantly, disrupted the class, and was
headed for a career making license plates.
As if reading my mind, a teacher said, "Don't worry.
They all go through this stage and then you can sit
back, relax, and enjoy them". My mother listened
and said nothing.
When I was in my forties, I spent a lifetime waiting
for the phone to ring, the cars to come home, the
front door to open.
A friend said, "They're trying to find themselves.
Don't worry, in a few years, you can stop your
worrying. They'll be adults."
By the time I was 50, I was sick and tired of being
vulnerable. I was still worrying over my children,
but there was a new wrinkle. There was nothing
I could do about it.
I continued to anguish over failures, be tormented by
frustrations, and absorbed in their disappointments.
My friends said that when my kids got married I
could stop worrying and lead my own life. I wanted
to believe that, but I was haunted by my mother's
wan smile and her occasional, "You look pale. Are
you all right? Call me the minute you get home. Are you
depressed about something?"
Can it be that parents are sentenced to a lifetime of
worry? Is concern for one another handed down
like a torch to blaze the trail of human frailties
and the fears of the unknown? Is concern a curse or
is it a virtue that elevates us to the highest form of life?
One of my children became quite irritable recently,
saying to me, "Where were you? I've been calling for
three days, and no one answered. I was worried."
I smiled a wan smile and said nothing.
The torch has been passed.
~Author Unknown~
Is there a magic cutoff period when offspring
become accountable for their own actions?
Is there a wonderful moment when parents can
become detached spectators in the lives of their
children and shrug, "It's their lives," and feel
nothing?
When I was in my twenties, I stood in a hospital
corridor waiting for doctors to put a few stitches
in my son's head. I asked, "When do you stop
worrying?"
The nurse said, "When they get out of the accident
stage." My mother just smiled faintly and said
nothing.
When I was in my thirties, I sat on a little chair in
a classroom and heard how one of my children
talked incessantly, disrupted the class, and was
headed for a career making license plates.
As if reading my mind, a teacher said, "Don't worry.
They all go through this stage and then you can sit
back, relax, and enjoy them". My mother listened
and said nothing.
When I was in my forties, I spent a lifetime waiting
for the phone to ring, the cars to come home, the
front door to open.
A friend said, "They're trying to find themselves.
Don't worry, in a few years, you can stop your
worrying. They'll be adults."
By the time I was 50, I was sick and tired of being
vulnerable. I was still worrying over my children,
but there was a new wrinkle. There was nothing
I could do about it.
I continued to anguish over failures, be tormented by
frustrations, and absorbed in their disappointments.
My friends said that when my kids got married I
could stop worrying and lead my own life. I wanted
to believe that, but I was haunted by my mother's
wan smile and her occasional, "You look pale. Are
you all right? Call me the minute you get home. Are you
depressed about something?"
Can it be that parents are sentenced to a lifetime of
worry? Is concern for one another handed down
like a torch to blaze the trail of human frailties
and the fears of the unknown? Is concern a curse or
is it a virtue that elevates us to the highest form of life?
One of my children became quite irritable recently,
saying to me, "Where were you? I've been calling for
three days, and no one answered. I was worried."
I smiled a wan smile and said nothing.
The torch has been passed.
~Author Unknown~