She's not Me

I don’t have a lot of TV shows that I watch on a regular basis, but “Parenthood” is fast becoming my favorite, because of the way they portray parenting teenage daughters and other family issues. Sometimes I think the writers must have lived in my house and spied on my family to get ideas for the show. In a recent episode, single (divorced) mom Sarah had a heart to heart with her teenage daughter Amber. Amber had signed up to play guitar and sing at a local bar for their “open mic” night, and reluctantly played a little of the song she was working on for her mom. Sarah’s well-intended advice was not taken very well, and Amber completely shut down and refused to play anything else for her mom, announcing that she was no longer going to perform at the open mic night. Later in the episode, Sarah sat down with Amber, and their conversation went something like this…

Sarah: “I’m sorry you’re not playing at the open mic thing. I feel really bad about that.”

Amber: Rolls her eyes and twists her mouth.

Sarah: “You know, one day, when you have kids…if you have kids…there’s something you should know. This confusing thing they don’t tell you about. You see so much of yourself in them…your ironic take on the world, your smile, your sense of humor, your walk…and you think they’re you…but they’re not. And they shouldn’t have all your baggage, your fears, your insecurities and your life experience. They have their own.”

Then she went on to tell her that her song was beautiful…haunting, moving, and so…her. She told her she was so proud of her and that was what she should have said in the first place.

It’s ironic that I watched this episode this afternoon, after I had a long conversation with my daughter. It was an incredibly open and emotional conversation, and one in which she got angry with me for the second time in 24 hours for assuming I knew how she felt.

She was telling me about a social situation she’d been going through, and the dilemma she had been facing regarding how to handle it, and I immediately jumped in to tell her how I would handle it. My gut reaction was based on my own experiences in high school, combined with a lifetime of lessons learned and disappointments faced. The problem with that is, she hasn’t gone through any of that yet. She doesn’t have the hesitations based on disappointment. She doesn’t have fear based on memories of failure. She is bright eyed, optimistic, and of course, a little nervous about things she hasn’t faced yet.

Why should I do anything to dampen that spirit of hers? Why should I add even one more thing for her to worry about…something that hasn’t happened to her yet? She has to go through these things on her own, form her own opinions and let her own experiences shape her future. I should be here to listen, to cheer her on, and yes, to guide her gently when I feel she is making a dangerous or life-changing mistake. But this young woman of mine makes some pretty great decisions without my input. She does need me… she needs me to listen when she wants to talk, she needs me to bounce ideas off of, and she needs me to provide advice when asked. She knows I’m the life boat that will keep her from veering too far off course, but at this point I have to let her drive.

Sarah ended her conversation with Amber by saying, “…I’m in awe of you. And I want you to just go out there and fly. You can fly.” The happy ending was that Meghan DID do the open mic, and did it beautifully.

I’ve said it before, but watching my little girl fly is one of the best parts of being her mom.

Almost Ready to Fly!

When I was a little girl, I remember finding a baby bird under the tree in our back yard.  I was so worried about it, because it couldn’t fly yet.  My dad wouldn’t let me keep it…told me we needed to leave it alone.  It seemed so tiny and defenseless, out in the yard, exposed to numerous predators.  My dad explained that when the babies get bigger, it’s hard for them to stay in the nest, so they often just flop out and land on the ground.  He grabbed a kitchen towel, and very gently picked up the baby and put it into the shrubs next to our house.

The mama bird must have been watching, because she immediately swooped in and started bringing food to the baby in its new home.   As it got stronger, we caught a glimpse or two of a parent with the baby out in the yard, drinking out of the birdbath, or poking around for food.  A few weeks later, they were gone, and we assumed the baby had learned to find its own food and flew away to live on its own.

I was reminded of that experience yesterday, as we dropped our 17-year-old daughter off at the airport at 5 a.m. to catch a flight to New York.  She’s a junior at a high school that has a wonderful three-week program in January called “Winterim”.  Juniors and seniors spend those three weeks off campus at internships or service projects.   My daughter, along with 17 other girls, is spending her winterim in NYC, staying at a hotel in midtown, and taking the subway (by herself) to her internship, where she will work from 9-5 at a talent agency.  The girls have internships all over the city, and it’s an incredible experience for them. 

She’s been away from home before, but always in controlled situations such as summer camp, where her meals were provided, her laundry was done, and her activities were planned.   When we attended the meeting for parents of the girls doing travel internships, we had all sorts of questions.  Where will they do laundry?  Where will they get their meals?  What if they oversleep?  Basically, the answers were…they’ll figure it out.

Yesterday, the girls were taught the intricacies of the subway system, did a little shopping, unpacked, and by dinner were taking the subway downtown to have dinner at a restaurant near NYU that someone had told them about.  They didn’t get lost, mugged, or any of the other things that parents worry about…they were back in time for curfew.  This morning my daughter got up on time, worked out in the gym, caught her train and made it to work with time to spare.

It’s like when the baby birds fall out of the nest.  Whether they fell, or flopped out on their own, they became “fledglings” and had to start learning to do things for themselves.  They had grown wings and were almost capable of surviving outside the nest, and that is what they were learning.   The parents were still there, prodding them to try new things, but they were always watching. 

My daughter and her classmates are like fledglings.  It’s important for them to learn how to survive on their own.  It seems like yesterday she was here, with me, in her little “nest”.  I was responsible for all the things she couldn’t do herself…nurturing, feeding, bathing, educating, chauffeuring, comforting, and protecting.  We’ve had a lot of little moments of her finding her independence, but something tells me this is a huge turning point.  

She still has a lot of learning to do.  But unless she falls (or jumps!) out of the nest, she won’t have the opportunity to really learn it. It won’t be long until she flies off on her own, and it will be an incredible, exciting, heart wrenching moment.  It truly is bittersweet, as a parent, to watch your child take these steps.  I am so very proud of her, and as it has always been since she was a little girl, my heart sings when she’s happy.  But it is hard to let go.  

I know I will miss doing the things I’ve done for her for the last 17 years.  I know I still have a little time, but when the time comes, I will cheer her on.  But I will always be watching.