Make them independent, they said…

Make them independent, they said. Make them useful contributing members of society, they said. Grow them up so they are prepared to face whatever life throws at them, they said.

But what they didn’t say, those wise old know-it-alls, was how to parent when they are independent. How you literally feel your heart is going to break in a thousand tiny pieces when they do fly the coop. How the ache of them leaving is quite literally debilitating. How much you want to stomp your feet and scream NOOOO! when their wings start stretching, and how you literally feel that you have absolutely no idea how you are going to do life without them in the house when they do actually leave. No one prepares you for how that feels.

I have always said parenting is not easy. You pore through the ‘what to expect when you’re expecting’ books, and you diligently attend every antenatal class. You are nervous because you want to get it perfectly right, and in true ‘not-a-parent-yet’ arrogance, you have unequivocal smug ideas about how you are and absolutely aren’t going to parent. You know exactly what you kids will and won’t do, and how much better than Crazy Suzy next door – who screams like a banshee while her little Wreck-it-Ralph goes apeshit during dinner time. You know for a fact that you won’t be that parent who allows them to have a dummy when they can walk, or have the child who picks their nose, or bites other kids. Yes yes, before they arrive, you have it all perfectly planned out.

And then they arrive.

There is no manual, no 1-800 number, no warranty, and no return policy. And while you’re in the trenches of sleep deprivation, and trying to establish routines, and manage an occasional shower and feed yourself, and maintain some semblance of “I’ve got this” BS so that you can continue to believe you have one up on Crazy Suzy, those unequivocal ideas of your perfect parent plan slowly get buried under nappies and toys and blankets and piles of laundry. And just when you start to think sanity will prevail because they start sleeping and cooing and saying mama, toddlerhood hits you like a ten-ton toy truck covered in playdough. Back in the trenches… toilet training, tantrums, tears, tying shoelaces, defiance that you never realised was capable from a 12kg soft cuddly offshoot of your own rearing. Terrible twos, threatening threes, fierce-some fours… and then a short interlude where again you are lured into a false sense of security that you might just have things under control.

Then school starts. Homework hassles, extra lessons, extra murals, and parents who are just extra! Living their lives vicariously through their young. You try not to get sucked into the competition of who has the neatest handwriting, or shiniest shoes, or the most merits, or perfect spelling test results. You try not to worry about what your child will take for Bakerman/ Bakerlady day, because it is not a competition, of course. Projects and sports competitions, eisteddfods, and library books. The frenzy starts up again and you find yourself drinking wine with Crazy Suzy, hoping for a morsel of wisdom as she has now become your idol because Wreck-It-Ralph is astoundingly head-boy so she must have gotten something right.

Highschool dawns, and before you know it you are discussing the birds, bees and whether blow jobs are actually considered sex. They are opening your eyes to things you had no idea existed, like rainbow parties, and texting shortcuts, who does what to who and where. SMH! Controlling your WTF face becomes your round-the-clock objective because there is some ridiculous part of you that wants to know what is going on in their world, while the remnant of your pre-parent naïve self is screaming on the inside for it to not be real!

You go through all of this… and trust me at times it feels like a marathon, a messy, muddy, bloody, painful, exhausting, never-ending marathon you have to complete blindfolded, backwards, one hand tied behind your head, and without a map… but you go through it and then they leave. They frikking leave.

MVM! This is not for weaklings.

Through all the trials and challenges, you do manage to hold on to some core ‘perfect parent ideals’ and you strive to make them strong, independent, and capable. When they accomplish something they worked really hard on, you feel pride like you have never felt for anything you have ever achieved for yourself. The swell in your heart when they are happy quite literally pushes on some invisible duct that makes your eyes well up. I have never experienced any feeling like that ever in my entire life. The pride a parent feels is overwhelming. That is what you want. You know when they are happy and standing on their own two feet, fighting their own battles, and figuring out their own problems, that you have done something right. You have achieved that parental purpose of raising a capable, independent, contributing member of society.

But then they leave.

My one son leaves for the US in two days, and today I just want to push a pause button. It is too soon. I am not ready. I know that is totally selfish, but I don’t know how to do this part. The raising was tough, but the letting go is a whole different beast.

I know it is the circle of life. I know I should be excited and happy. I know I should be thrilled for him. But I also know that if someone else tells me that again, I may just unleash the full force of this mama bear anguish on them because Heaven knows these raw emotions need an outlet!

I am happy for him. I am excited for him. I want him to have many adventures and travel the world and see and live life to the fullest. I don’t feel very happy today, but I will be. But today, today I want to find those wise old owls and punch them in the face because they never EVER mentioned how frikking hard this is. They never prepared me. Today I am a mess and in two days when I have to watch him walk through an airport terminal, with no return flight and no idea of when I will see him again, I will be even worse. So today, I am allowing myself the tears, and the sadness, and the rollercoaster of emotions that is parenting. And today I want to say, my vok Marelise, this parenting thing is grueling.

Today I am back to work after a week off with the dreaded lurgy. Again. Strike two for me with this exasperatingly, devastatingly disruptive virus. As a small business owner, no work means no pay, and today I am sitting staring at my screen for some inspiration.

The mountain of work piled up while I was off, and the mountain of untouched ‘to do’ feels like a massive hurdle right now. Where to start?

Scrolling – read procrastinating – through LinkedIn, I come across this quote…

So simple. Short and sweet. It was what I needed to read now.

All businesses do indeed start small. Often with one person’s vision for something big. I know my vision is big. Huge. And some days that vision energises me, but other days, particularly when I have lost momentum (like today, after being off sick), that vision feels too big. Too overwhelming for little old me. How am I going to get there?

This week has been particularly challenging because the things I need to do are tedious. They aren’t the fun ‘changing lives’ things that I thrive on, but without them, I can’t get to the fun stuff. I am reminded of the ripple effect, of how one tiny action will have repercussions, and so I just need to start. But today it isn’t easy going.

Years ago I went to a business building seminar, and the keynote speaker talked about how he built his business. From small, just him in the beginning, to a multimillion-dollar business. He was inspirational, but he was so human- so authentic. He said that sometimes he had to force himself to make those calls. One day he would make five calls, and another day one or two, and another day maybe eight calls. He was inconsistent. But he said, and this is the part I remember, “That was the key… being inconsistent… inconsistent… inconsistent…”

It made me smile. He made his point.

So maybe today my work isn’t life changing, and maybe today it isn’t that energising, but all it takes is a start, and to be consistent, or consistently inconsistent, and to keep going.  

I write and teach about resilience and grit for goodness’ sake! It’s part of those vital future skills I try instil in young people. Time to practice what I preach, right? And I will. I will dig deep and find that stubbornness that keeps me going, and I will gain my momentum again, but I just wanted to let people know that it isn’t always easy. Some days it feels like trudging thigh deep through mud. In wool pants. Wearing steel capped hiking boots. That suction to the mud and make your legs feel like lead. While dragging a suitcase with a broken wheel. In the pouring rain.

So many inspirational success stories seem painted with a rose-coloured haze of blissful progress that isn’t painful or hard. We admire these successful bigwigs, at the echelons of their success and can’t imagine that it was ever difficult for them, but the reality is that some days it is just not fun.

We know that visions and dreams don’t become realities through magic and wishing. They require commitment, stubborn will, and reigniting yourself. Whether that is through an inspiring quote, or necessity, or a kick in the a$$, you have to do what needs to be done – sometimes sluggishly, other times with exhilarating energy.

The ugly truth though, is that success is passion and perseverance, stamina, sticking with it, and having the raw endurance you need for a marathon, because success isn’t a sprint. So today, maybe I am not sprinting, or even jogging. Today, maybe I am only warming up again, but I am still here, I showed up, I made a few calls, sent a few emails, and I have written this. Today the bulk of my day was not life changing, nor invigorating, but I am still moving forward, eye on my vision. And maybe, just maybe, this tribute to the not very rose-coloured side of success, will reach just one person and maybe, just maybe, it will change that person’s life.

Tomorrow is a new day 😊