We don't have control.
This is a message that I thought I learned after dating forever and Ma dying. Yet this message didn't really kick in until I had offspring.
An article popped up in my feed from The Atlantic by Jessica Slice, a disabled woman, titled "The Biggest Surprise About Parenting With a Disability." I'm not a paying subscriber, so the most I could gather was from the teaser: Slice thought parenting would be incredibly difficult, considering the modern narrative, plus she is disabled to boot.
Yet, to her surprise, she didn't find it as hard as she thought it would be. Her theory was that being disabled, she was already quite aware that she did not have control. Postpartum mothers can be suddenly dealing with an unaccommodating body, and most definitely an unaccommodating baby, and that new lack of control is terrifying.
We hear about helicopter parents and snowplow parents and parents who sign up their fetuses for the high-tier advanced playgroup that is the first step for future success. Despite the fact that there is no proof that the high-tier advanced playgroup leads to a corner office—yet there certainly is enough data that resilience is a better predictor of accomplishment.
The tighter our grip, the more slips away. It's not easy. We live in a culture where parents are blamed for everything, whether by society or by their own children, so it's not such a stretch that parents would think that they have to be perfectly on top of their game OR ELSE.
I was the youngest. It was very apparent then that Ma felt little to no pressure at that point. She expected me to study and try; as long as I did that, it didn't matter if I got a bad grade. She didn't feel the need for extracurriculars, unless it was something I wanted to do. She knew what kids really want: cartoons to be watched in peace, toys, and cake. She didn't begrudge them. She was still terrifyingly European and expected good behavior and going to bed on time, but she didn't demand academic excellence. When I was in high school, I decided I wanted to do well and really applied myself.
So with my kids, I try to see them for who they are and what they need, as opposed to what I would want them to be. I try for them to feel accomplished for themselves, rather than my doing things for them.
Will they be mad at me when they grow up? Probably. But they'll be mad at me no matter what I do, so I might as well take it easy on myself.
We don't have control, whether we think we do or not. For many of us, our lives did not turn out remotely the way we expected. And that's ok! It's not an indicator of failure. It just means we aren't in control.
