I write a lot about my angst over my daughters because I compare them to what I read on Facebook. It’s a mistake, because Facebook is the best 5 percent of everyone’s lives. So we compare 100 percent of our lives to 5 percent of others’ best. It’s a 21st century self-confidence problem, to be sure.
My oldest is 21 and back living at home, working part time, and paying loans she accrued for the year she was in a private college. My youngest is freshly graduated from high school and didn’t have a plan, so when she finally decided she wanted to take art classes at the community college, it was too late for fall semester. She found a job she can work from home online. Other than that, they are just here. At home. With me. Always.
Now that I don’t have to get up early to see anyone off to school, my schedule is technically my own. However, I am the type of mother who lets my family’s behaviors dictate my life and it’s a difficult habit to break. But contrary to popular belief, I don’t want to control them. Though, I can’t totally shed all the responsibilities of domestic bliss. Let’s get real, my husband has no interest in running his own life, including making his own appointments, meals, or doing laundry. He married me so I could take care of those things.
But with children, adult children especially, it’s a fine line between assisting them towards making decisions about their futures and performing all the necessary steps myself. Because, as all parents know, even with young children, when we do it for them it won’t last for the long haul. And my kids really need, or rather I need them to, commit to something besides living in my garage.
I was disgruntled they were staying up until the wee hours of the morning and sleeping until mid-afternoon. I found myself daily seething over their lack of motivation while they slept on. I admit, I had a love/hate relationship with my kids because I felt like they weren’t trying. Then I loathed myself for feeling that way about them. It made me observe my own endeavors for the past couple weeks. I realized that I quit taking care of myself.
So last week, I renewed my efforts to walk first thing in the morning before I ate or had my first cup of coffee. I explored the neighborhoods attached to my own, I went hither and yon, uphill and down. When I returned home an hour later, I felt refreshed; ready to start my own day regardless of my kids’ plans. After a week, I felt better about them already.
Walking gave me the energy to put my foot down with my daughters: they would go to bed before the witching hour, get up when it was still daylight, write down some goals, and participate in my day. It didn’t even have to be as early as I got up, at least by 10, so we had a chance to communicate like adults or get some projects accomplished before their father got home from work.
This has worked wonders for my psyche and I can honestly say now, I don’t hate my kids. So this column is really about how to hate your kids less in 60 minutes a day.
Gretchen Leigh is a stay-at-home mom who lives in Covington. You can read more of her writing and her blog on her websitelivingwithgleigh.com, on Facebook at “Living with Gleigh.”or follow her on Twitter @livewithgleigh. Her column is available every week atmaplevalleyreporter.com under the Lifestyles section.
