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I grew up with perfect attendance in school because we had to literally be on our death bed to stay home from education. My mother didn't believe in missing days of school for things other parents allowed their children; colds, periods, and late nights. If on our death bed, we stayed in it tucked between the sheets resting. No television was allowed, although books were, but mainly we slept and rested to recover for school the next day. Her philosophy, told to me as an adult, was "if it was boring to stay home, you wouldn't want to do it."That mentality stuck with me when I became a parent. School was the importance and illness was not something to be entertained. If my girls had to be home, they were in bed, and that's where they knew they would be. Madison, except for a weird stint during kindergarten, was never home due to illness. Darcy, on the other hand, spent at least three days home a year due to fever which was drilled into us by our pediatrician's office as a stay at home indicator. We were reminded that others could send their sick kids to school too, spreading the germs to my kids. I began relaxing my on the death bed rule.
Somewhere along the relaxation route I added in television, but only shows that I didn't think my kids would be interested in. No cartoons. No Disney. Rarely PBS. Instead I had on totally inappropriate talk shows. We would watch Regis & Kelly and after that the Wendy Williams Show, a show discovered during one of those sick days. These shows were only watched on sick days as I didn't, nor do I now, turn on the television during the day.
+ 1
Yesterday my SIL Susan and I were lamenting our unhappiness at our children growing up and moving on. For me, our Thanksgiving break was not the norm. Madison didn't come home, and although Darcy did, she was busy with friends, or lopping in her bed on her phone, and wile she did spend some time with us, it wasn't enough for me. All I could focus on was the fact that she went back to school a day and a half early to see the BOY. Yes, Darcy has a BOY.
SIL and I whined. I knew my mother was laughing hysterically from her spot on the china cabinet as we did because she too lived through this nonsense, especially with my brother and my SIL. My brother reminded his wife of this very fact too, telling her to think back to when they were 18 years old. "We didn't want to spend time with my parents or your parents. We wanted to be alone." Yes, of course, SIL and I know this, but it doesn't make it any easier.
SIL: "I told him this is different because I'm the mom!"
Yep, my mother was rolling around up there as we talked.
Darcy is my social kid. As she hugged us good-bye on Saturday afternoon, she reminded me of that very thing and said she shouldn't have to apologize for that, and of course, that is true. The kid is doing everything right. She worked hard in high school for four years despite hating it. She scored high on her IB exams and cleared a year of college by doing so. She made the top tier of Florida's scholarship award and got to take advantage of the legislature's paying of the full year of tuition. She was going to class, earning A's, getting her assignments in on time. She wasn't drinking or doing drugs or going to parties. I had nothing to complain about, except I know my kid.
Sometimes too much freedom for her can be her downfall, and while I watched her thrive in college, I also knew she was off campus in her car as much as she was on campus. She was dwindling her savings account of the money she earned this summer working, buying frivolous things and discussing how next year she would live in an apartment. She was not getting her required eight hours of sleep, and suddenly she was in the emergency room at the children's hospital with headaches and anxiety attacks. I had to put my foot down.
I told SIL that I planned to rein her in over the four weeks I had her home over Christmas break. I wanted to remind her of who she is and what she requires to maintain herself. I wasn't going to let her run freely all over town. She wasn't going to drive miles to see the BOY or head back to college to spend a few days with him. This was a break, and by golly, I would see to it that she took it.
= 2
Later that night Darcy called just to talk, and that surprised me. While she calls frequently, I hadn't expected it now that I knew she was asserting her independence. She called just to talk. She was with the BOY, but she called to talk to me, just because. She talked about her day, about her assignments, about where she and the BOY were going, about decorating her room for the holidays, about her roommate, and about Maddy and her birthday. It was just a nice talk, and then she told me that despite telling me she didn't want me with her when she brought the BOY home to walk through the city park to see the holiday lights and decorations, she would bring him by for dinner if that would work for me. Mindful of my talk with my SIL and my husband, the one where we all agreed we would have to let our kids live their lives with minimal interference and hurt, I agreed to cook dinner to get that time with the two of them.
Then as she mentioned aches and pains and stress and restless nights, I told her my plan for her break. The one where she would spend a couple of days relaxing and recovering from her adult college life. The one where I would override her friends, her activities, and constant phone use. The one where I would insist on rest and deep breathing.
Darcy: "I'm down with a couple of days of snuggling and chilling."
Me: "Really? Well, good because I think you need it, and I'm insisting on it."
Darcy: "We can curl up on the couch and watch movies."
Me: "Uh, well, yeah, ok."
Darcy: "NO! We can watch that Wendy Show! Like we use to do when I was sick. Remember? Let's do that!"
I will admit that I sniffled a bit.
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