The Parenting Contract

visiting the fine print on my son's birthday

Today is my son’s birthday. He’s 28 years old and while that’s a very random number and not a milestone like 25 or 30, it’s still giving me pause. 28 is really no different than 27 when you think about it. Crossing over from one year into another doesn’t change anything. But the number keeps rolling around in my head. 28. Twenty-eight. Wasn’t it just last week he was two and dancing around the living room to Offspring’s “Come Out and Play” and wasn’t it just yesterday he knocked a vase of flowers off the coffee table while doing Power Ranger kicks? I hate the way time moves. I hate that once I had kids life felt like it was going in fast forward. I hate that he’s 28 because that means…

…I’m old.

Well, it’s more than that. It’s more than acknowledging that my son - my baby - is a full grown adult. It’s that he’s a full grown adult who can fend for himself, who works two jobs and buys his own things and takes care of his bills and his car and who, for all intents and purposes, does not need his mother anymore.

Ah, so that’s what this is about. That’s why I was weeping on a Friday night while thinking about him as a two year old, a five year old, a twelve year old. Coming to me for band-aids, for help with homework, for advice, for lessons on how to do laundry, for money. My role as a mother has changed and morphed into something unfamiliar to me. We talk about music, we talk about sports, we talk about politics. But the give and take is gone. The need my kids have for me is different now. Sure, they still want my companionship, they still love me unconditionally, but it’s a blow to my maternal ego to know they could easily survive without me.

Parenting is a long term contract and the terms of that contract are flexible. The older your kids get, the clearer the fine print becomes. Yes, it is your duty to come to their aid when they need you, but the things they need aid for change and evolve and also disappear. And it’s a double-edged sword because you affected that change! You taught them how to do their own laundry, you taught them how to drive, you taught them how to balance their bank account. The more you hold up your end of the contract of parenting, the more they are able to pull away from you. You have taught them self sufficiency. You have taught them to exist without you. What have you done?

Of course, you want this for your kids. You want them to exist outside of you, to have lives of their own, to not be needy. But with all that comes the waning usefulness of your servitude to them. The waning usefulness of you as a parent. When you become a parent, you put your all into being the best one you can be. Your life changes. You are no longer living for yourself, but living for you and your children. For so many years, your life is entwined in theirs, your existence seems to be solely for the purpose of aiding, nurturing, loving, teaching. Then one day you wake up and those purposes aren’t exactly gone, but they’re not as dire or pressing because your kids have become adults and they’ve moved to the periphery of your life. Maybe they moved out. Gone to college. Got married. Had kids of their own. There is a physical and emotional distance and I mean that in the best way. They have removed themselves from your side, and that is good and necessary for them to be functioning human beings. But it still hurts, it still at times makes you feel almost useless as they navigate life without your hands on the wheel. It’s like when you teach them to drive and you’re always slamming on that imaginary brake in the passenger seat. At some point you become comfortable. You stop trying to brake for them, because you know they are capable on their own. It’s a moment of parental pride, but it’s also bittersweet.

The parenting contract never ends. You have to take out a magnifying glass and scour the fine print and you’ll find the words “I need you in my life but I don’t need you to navigate my life anymore” and you’ll weep and feel selfishly depressed about it, but in the end you know this means you’re doing your job right.

My son doesn’t want to do anything for his birthday. We can’t go out to dinner because there’s a pandemic raging. We can’t gather family and friends for the same reason. He doesn’t even want a small vegan cake with just us. As much as I want to celebrate his birthday with balloons and presents and a rousing rendition of Tom Chapin’s “Happy Birthday” - a tradition in our house - I will honor his wishes and do nothing. Letting go of all the accouterments of a child’s birthday as they move into adulthood is just a tiny part of the letting go of their childhood all together. I can spend the day looking at old pictures and videos and longing for a time where Barney was his hero and his room was strewn with Pokemon cards at the same time I can recognize that my parenting contract calls for letting all that go, letting my kids be the adults they are, and that recognizing their lack of immediate need for me means I did something right.

Happy birthday, Daniel. May all your dreams for yourself come true.