As a mom, I’ve made a few what-was-I-thinking parenting decisions.
The first, and perhaps the most consequential, was choosing to send my oldest son to work on a banana plantation in Australia for 10 weeks the summer prior to his freshman year of high school. I believed it would accelerate his maturity and help him develop a worldview that might broaden his horizons in the future.
I did it to fulfill my primary goal in raising my five children — to guide them from total dependence to independence while they lived under my roof.
My son was 13 when he left, which, because he was the first of my kids to reach that age, didn’t seem that young at the time. He celebrated his 14th birthday in the Outback and returned home brimming with newfound wisdom and confidence. None of his siblings chose to replicate this trip, which was fine with me once I realized 13 was a really young age to send a child to the other hemisphere.
My kids know more than me
In preparation for the plantation work, his team learned rudimentary construction skills, such as laying bricks and pouring concrete. When he returned home, he proved how adept he’d become by mixing concrete for a memorial stone for his dog, who died while he was away.
As I watched him patiently cure the cement, I realized this kid knew a lot more than any of the rest of us. From that day forward, he was the one to fix the cracks in the front pathway, level the driveway, and lay the bricks for the patio.
Six years later, he asked me how I’d made the decision to leave home when I was his age. It was his way of preparing me for his departure, one of the best decisions he’s ever made.
My kids set an example for me
Even though I was sad to see him go, I didn’t discourage him from moving from Boston to San Francisco. Those first few months on the West Coast were challenging, but it didn’t take long for him to find his footing. Within the year, he enrolled in art school and today has a flourishing career as an artist in LA.
His fearlessness set an example for me, who, a few years later, followed him westward. Upon our arrival, this oldest child, now well established, helped his youngest sibling and me set up housekeeping. He recommended the car dealer, the bank, and the furniture store with the best deals. He even suggested which barber his youngest brother should use.
Now I’m the one asking questions
My children do not just offer practical advice. They inspire me. Three are talented artists making names for themselves. On those rare occasions when we gather to share a meal, I walk away praying that their artistic genius will spark my own creativity. I ask them how they come up with ideas. I stalk — I mean follow — them on social media to learn how they promote their work. I talk to them about business plans and strategies that lead to success.
It’s no longer appropriate for me to offer suggestions
What I don’t do is offer them professional advice. That was a tough pivot for me. For too many years, it was my job to review homework and make suggestions on how to improve an essay or refine a research paper. I learned the hard way that these professionals no longer need that.
My son, who’s a photographer, has kept a 3-year-old email from me in his inbox as a reminder that Mom doesn’t know what she’s talking about. I honestly don’t remember writing that I thought the subjects of his photo essay should smile more, but I did.
I welcome their advice
I don’t mind when they offer me advice. In fact, I welcome it. I want my son, who works in finance, to recommend investment opportunities. I want my daughter, who has a talent for decorating, to suggest the color for my bedroom walls. I’m open to them telling me how best to interact with my grandchildren.
My children have become wise adults. I think it’s a combination of life experience, book learning, and their innate abilities to figure things out. I appreciate learning from what they’ve learned along the way, and now it’s my turn to benefit from their guidance.
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