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The Daily Battle |
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In times of crisis, particularly national crises, people have a tendency to look inward. You take stock of what you have, perhaps believing it could be in jeopardy. It seems natural and prudent. Part of that is to look at your family. During the hours after the World Trade Center and Pentagon disasters, I found an inner urge to be with my children as soon as possible. My children are aged 16 and 18, so they are not in need of coddling, but my paternal instincts dictated I protect them somehow. I had been messaging with my wife as events unfurled, so I felt reasonably assured that she was fine. Fortunately, and gratifyingly, my older daughter called me from her job. She was upset, she was scared, she chose to call me. It was easy for me to comfort her and utter parental words to help her relax and feel secure. The fact that she called amplified my paternal instincts while simultaneously warming me with the notion that she needed my reassurance. Later, she would call again to tell me that she left work to go get her sister from school because it had closed early. They went home and stayed there. The good judgment, the protective instincts that we all shared were a given, unless you consider it inwardly, as I have. While our country teeters on the verge of a war like none we have experienced, it occurs to me that as parents, we wage a daily war with our teenage offspring treasures. It is a war of wills, a battle of wits, a test of patience, a challenge of endurance. All too often, the young adults demonstrate that they can outlast, out-energy, outwit, and fool us tired old goats. That is the serving of youth. There is but one way to combat this, I figure, and that is to never to give up. Last night, my daughter asked me if she could sleep over at a friend's house. Normally I see no reason not to allow this, but the events of the last few days prompted me to want to have her nearby. My response was a quick "no" followed by reasons that included that is was a school night, that I wanted her to get some rest and to bed earlier than usual (she'd been home sick that day). I got no guff from her, no eye-rolling, no sighs of disgust. I was glad. That was a potential confrontation avoided and a small victory in a small skirmish. I shall expect a much more intense charge come Friday night. The point is that raising kids, particularly as they stop being kids, takes a lot of energy, a lot of concentration, and considerable fortitude. They have several advantages. They are smart, they are agile, they have our unconditional love, and they have the resilience and fearlessness of youth. They are not vulnerable (or so they think), and convincing them to do or avoid things that make them vulnerable (more vulnerable, or so we think) is nearly impossible to impart. It can be painful, exhausting, discomforting, and distasteful to govern them without restricting their freedom to grow up. It is also part of the unwritten contract signed at birth, that we should never give up, never shrink from the daily battle, never allow what our gut tells us is dangerous no matter how manipulative these teens are. We want their love, but their respect is better for all concerned. We want the fun and joy of being their parent as it was when they were wholly dependent on us, but that cannot be. Most of all, we want to know we have done as good a job as possible in preserving their safety and growth path. We want the freedom from guilt, and that alone makes the job ongoing and critically important. When the day comes that they call to tell you they are okay, you know it is all worthwhile.
Larry Lefkowitz lives in Bucks County, Pennsylvania, near Philadelphia. He can be reached at: ellefkowitz@yahoo.com.
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by
Larry Lefkowitz