...WORRY
Is there a magic cut off period when our kids 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 life,' and feel nothing?
When I was in my twenties, I stood in a hospital emergency room waiting for doctors to x-ray in my daughter's head after a fall off a swing. I asked, 'When do you stop worrying?' The nurse said, 'When they get out of the accident stage.'
When I was in my thirties, I sat on a little chair in a classroom and heard how my daughter talked incessantly, and had beaten up one boy at recess, and scratched another boy, and I got the feeling she was headed for a career making license plates. As if to read my mind, the teacher said, 'Don't worry, they all go through this stage and then you can sit back, relax and enjoy them.'
When I was in my forties, I spent a what felt like lifetime waiting for the phone to ring, the car 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 worrying. They'll be adults.
By the time I was 50 , I was sick & 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 my failures as a parent, be saddened by their frustrations and absorbed in their disappointments.
My friends said that when my were on their own or got married I could stop worrying and lead my own life... I wanted to believe that, but I am still haunted by my dad's warm but concerned voice and his occasional, 'Are you all right? Is something bothering you? 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 not too long ago, saying to me, 'Where were you? I've been calling for 3 days, and no one answered. I was worried.'
I smiled a little to myself...perhaps the torch has been passed.
When I was in my twenties, I stood in a hospital emergency room waiting for doctors to x-ray in my daughter's head after a fall off a swing. I asked, 'When do you stop worrying?' The nurse said, 'When they get out of the accident stage.'
When I was in my thirties, I sat on a little chair in a classroom and heard how my daughter talked incessantly, and had beaten up one boy at recess, and scratched another boy, and I got the feeling she was headed for a career making license plates. As if to read my mind, the teacher said, 'Don't worry, they all go through this stage and then you can sit back, relax and enjoy them.'
When I was in my forties, I spent a what felt like lifetime waiting for the phone to ring, the car 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 worrying. They'll be adults.
By the time I was 50 , I was sick & 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 my failures as a parent, be saddened by their frustrations and absorbed in their disappointments.
My friends said that when my were on their own or got married I could stop worrying and lead my own life... I wanted to believe that, but I am still haunted by my dad's warm but concerned voice and his occasional, 'Are you all right? Is something bothering you? 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 not too long ago, saying to me, 'Where were you? I've been calling for 3 days, and no one answered. I was worried.'
I smiled a little to myself...perhaps the torch has been passed.
posted by Cinnabitch | 12:17 PM
1 Comments:
I blame it all on women: they're the ones who insist on having kids, and then they bitch about spending the rest of their lives taking care of 'em. And us poor old dads are just along for the ride....
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