Hey, can you just W.A.I.T.?

W.A.I.T.

Why Am I Talking? It's one of the coolest acronyms I learned from listening to Anne Lamott. It reminds me that sometimes the best action to take is no action at all. As a mom, it's one of the most challenging lessons I need to learn.

Recently, my 30-year old came for a visit. In the past, he's asked me pointedly not to do his laundry when he comes to visit. A simple request, right? One would think. I walked by the washing machine, noting that it was closed and cycles done. I looked inside & saw his clothes, and automatically started to transfer them into the dryer. Suddenly, his request popped into my head & I methodically took the clothes I had just put into the dryer  and placed them back into the washing machine. I closed the lid and walked out of the room, shaking my head as I considered how stupid that seemed, but at the same time, proud of my actions. 

It's actually the inaction that was important, just as the unspoken has proven to be my saving grace when communicating with my kids. Holding my tongue and not jumping immediately to solutions or worse, plying them with probing questions I think has improved my relationships with them more than any advice I may have given.  

I read this quote recently and it took me by surprise. 

"God grant me the serenity to accept the people I cannot change, the courage to change the one I can, and the wisdom to know it's me."  (Anon...)

Well of COURSE it's anonymous- who would really want to admit writing that? But it's good to have the reminder that looking honestly in the mirror and making changes is necessary and humbling. 

To keep evolving is key to having mutually satisfying relationships with my adult kids. Knowing when to shut up is equally important as knowing when not to butt in. Even a facial expression which conveys an uninvited response can be read with little effort. I need to utilize "W.A.I.T" more often & practice just listening and nodding. 

I guess it's a bit like finally letting go of the bicycle seat or letting go of them in a swimming pool- all scary prospects but necessary for them to learn and necessary for me to take a step back. It's no different today really, they're just bigger and smarter and they know me better . Now I know when to pull back, even if pulling back sometimes means just keeping quiet when I still want to offer the advice. I have learned this - a supporting actor is a critical role to play and sometimes the supporting actor's job is to simply keep their mouth shut. Hey, like falling off a log.

The more things change, the more they change

Watching a blinking cursor is not good for anyone, especially me. I know many writers often hit blocks, but I have hit a writing wall and for the past four months, have had many excellent essays roaming around my brain, but alas, that is where they've stayed.

So I'm back & I appreciate everyone (anyone's?) indulgence and patience and I promise to keep these essays churning out at a regular pace now that I'm out of my writing coma. My revelations about being a mom come at a nonstop rate and I am constantly in awe of what an unusual and ever-present role this really is. I really made a very inaccurate assumptions that though my role was one of constant change and adjustment, I would be okay with the change. I'd roll with it in a relaxed and accepting fashion. As if.

There are delightful and sometimes painful surprises along the way and I will admit right here and right now and I in fact have NOT been "rolling with it" as well as I'd expected. The physical distance between me and my kids grows larger and with it, the emotional connections sometimes falter. No sense in handing out blame and I accept my role in this phenomenon. But I surely do not like it. I know, I know- it's what I bargained for and in so many ways had hoped for. Independent adults, living their lives anywhere and in any way they wanted. I knew intellectually that I was not to be a part of their everyday lives, decisions and experiences. But the actuality of this has been more difficult to accept. That is my problem, not theirs.

Many friends whose kids left for college never to return to the San Francisco Bay Area shoot me borderline menacing looks when I sigh and complain. The Sberlo kids were around the homestead for much longer than most - until well into their twenties. I argue then that my adjustment is that much harder. In a previous blog, I wrote about September 2009, when within two weeks, my oldest kid left, my youngest kid started college and my dog died. Talk about ripping the bandage off quickly.

Years ago I attended a lecture by Hope Edelman called "Motherless Daughters". It was attended by, as you might guess, a few hundred of us motherless daughters. Each woman had her story but it wasn't until a gray-haired woman in the back of the hall stood up and said, "I have just lost my mother and I am devastated." Having lost my mother when I was 29 years old, I am ashamed to admit that my first thought was, "You were lucky to have had your mother through your seventies!" And then she uttered a sentence that put me in my place, "I had my mother for so long, I don't even know how to live without her." 

Einstein really had something there with his Theory of Relativity. We get accustomed to something being a certain way and the longer that is the case, the more difficult it is when it changes. And it goes without saying that that applies to both positive and negative change. It's up to me to make those adjustments and understand that it's okay for the paradigm of my relationship with each of my kids to morph into something different. 

I find myself going through waves of mature, thoughtful adaptation and acceptance and then periods of sadness, loneliness and even a little heartbreak. My goal here is to not put that burden on them and to continue whatever stream of communication works for both of us at the time. Texting is a Godsend, emails can be fun and seeing their face on a screen is the best of all. I think I ought to call my dad right now...