When I was 16 years old, I got to drive on my first road trip.
Well, maybe ‘road trip’ is a bit of a stretch. I got to drive on my first long distance drive.
By myself.
We were living in Washington State; a small city called Bellingham. We were about 2 hours away from Seattle and about 45 minutes from Vancouver, B.C.
I’d had my license for less than 3 months and my best friend from our previous home came to visit. Bellingham didn’t have an airport, so we had to drive to Seattle to pick her up.
After her visit, I drove her back to the airport. Just us.
I don’t remember if I asked if it could be just us or if they offered. Probably the former, but I honestly don’t know.
I remember being excited and nervous and going over the route with my dad, using the map and printed directions. This was 1998. We’re talking pre-MapQuest. (And I’m sure some of you reading this don’t even know what that is.)
And then we started talking about what driving into the airport would look like. And Seattle’s airport isn’t exactly…small. Not to mention, it can be daunting driving around a large airport even if you’ve been driving for years.
We made it, in plenty of time. I dropped off my friend and then headed out.
I think I only circled the airport twice trying to get out and was nervous on the freeway home only once.
About 45 minutes ago, my three sons asked to walk to the playground by our house. It’s not far. Like at all. But I still can’t see them or hear them.
Before they go, I made sure to review the rules with them--about going anywhere else, about talking to strangers, even about going up to cars belonging to people they know.
They are 9, 7, and 7. More specifically, they’re two months from 10, and days away from 8 (and 8).
We’re getting to the “next” part of life with them. The part where they don’t want to hang out with mom as much. They want to hang out with friends or with dad or do it by themselves. And it’s hard.
But I get why.
I’m MOM. I take care of the needs of life, the necessities, the everyday. If they can’t find something, they yell my name. If they want to go somewhere, I’m the person they ask first. Arrange something with friends? Me. Hungry? Or hurt? Same.
I represent safety. The known. The homebase.
Don’t get me wrong, they see their dad as safe too but they’re starting to figure out that Dad is a MAN and they want to be one too. So, the watching has started. And the listening. And the big talks. And the outings with just the guys.
But there’s also a lot of time now where they want to do it themselves. Even the stuff they aren’t aware that they want to do by themselves. I taught them how to make sandwiches and you should see their pride. That messy PB&J is a masterpiece. As is that turkey with too much mayo or mustard.
…and it’s hard.
And it’s so weird that it’s hard!
Their independence is hard for me! Even when I know it is totally and completely necessary. I don’t want to raise kids who don’t know how to do anything, like make food or do their own laundry, but it’s bigger than that.
Right now, they’re stretching their wings. They’re trying to prove, to themselves and the whole freaking world, that they CAN.
And that’s part of my job too. Not only to someday make sure they can fly away from this nest but to make sure that they know they CAN. That they are strong and smart and brave and kind and CAPABLE.
I know that we are at the very beginning of this part of the job. That we’ve got years of this part of parenting left. And these baby steps are…well, they’re hard enough. I can’t begin to imagine the terror I’m going to feel watching away one of my kids drive away by himself for the first time.
Let alone two hours away to an airport.
I was talking to my parents recently about that and mentioned that now I can’t believe they let me do that. That when I’ve told people that story, they look at me like it’s crazy.
My parents chuckled and said that I was an abnormally trustworthy teenager.
And while I’m sure that personality was part of it, it also had A LOT to do with them. It wasn’t even about them trusting me, it was that I knew that they knew I could do it. And there was power in that.
But they didn’t just have confidence in me. They taught me to have confidence in myself. They talked to me and taught me and then called me on it when I made a stupid choice, showing me how to make a correct one.
Right before I turned 16, my dad showed me how to change a tire on the car that was going to be mine. I remember being a little put out because I knew I could just call Triple A or wait for somebody else to come help me. And I found out that THAT was why he was teaching me. He said he didn’t want me to have to wait for someone else or be reliant on someone else to get out of a bad situation. He didn’t use the word damsel, but I still got it.
He wanted me to know that I could handle it. And he wanted me to know that he KNEW that I could handle it. And now that I’m a parent, I also know that making sure your kid is capable is one of the only ways to not go crazy at the thought of them growing up. For me, it’s almost the only thing between locking them away from the scary things of the world, and proudly watching them walk out into it.
I did so much as a teenager that I now know is surprising. I had a lot of freedom and got to have a lot of adventures, and many of those without my parents.
Now don’t get me wrong, they still said ‘no’ and set boundaries and disciplined when I crossed them. But if I had to boil it down, this is the greatest gift my parents gave me.
They knowledge that I was capable. I could do it.
And when I had doubts? When I had fears? When I didn’t know HOW? I asked them. (I still do.)
That’s what I want for my boys.
I want them to know they can do it. I want them to trust that they can fly and be safe. And then when they get scared or don’t trust their wings, I want them to know that they can call me. And their dad. That I’m still Mom and dad is still Dad.
We will continue to teach and talk and make sure they know that yes, the world is bright and awesome and scary and big, but they can do it.
They can make the move.
They can work through the fear.
They can do the job.
They can handle the unknown.
They can go to the party.
They can talk to strangers and be safe.
They can make the drive.
They can figure out and trust their brain.
They can grow up.
I won’t hold them back. Because my desire for their success is greater than my fear.
And, when those fears and doubts and hurts inevitably occur, when the world and people do prove themselves to be mean and scary and big, my children will know that home is safe and secure. And after they have had their breather, after they have found respite in our safety, or even just asked their questions, we will send them back out with joy. Because our love is not a prison. And because they CAN DO IT.
And it all starts with letting them walk to the playground.
