Today my progeny phoned me, distraught. I heard the pain-filled voice and my heart lept. With the distance between us I was unable to offer any real comfort–except an ear–and an attempt at a calming voice. First the tears and sobs and then the anguished declaration “I have failed, again!” In the greater scheme of things this was not a life ending situation, but my mother’s heart was breaking.

Parenting is one of those jobs that continues, and continues and continues. I remember that even when I was more than a half century of age I would  turn to my father for adivce. In hindsight, I now wonder if he knew what he had signed on for when he became a parent, if he knew it would last for so many years. I can’t remember what I expected for myself at this stage of my parenting life.

I find that although I am now the parent of an adult I still want to take on those people who would dare to hurt my child–even when the pain was not intended. I also wish to embrace my child, to wipe away the tears, to cuddle, kiss and comfort; but this is not possible. And, so I listen.

Many thoughts enter my head. First, I am glad that I am not young in this day and age. I think it must be a very difficult time to be “starting out in life”.  Second, that despite the many differences, disagreements and arguments, I am still seen as a source of comfort and caring–and I confess it makes me feel good, or at least useful. Third, I am reminded, for the umpteenth time,  why there is so much difficulty for a family when parents become the vulnerable members rather than its supports. Fourth, I am amazed at how similar my child and I are–although most would take a look at the two of us and say “no way!”

We have shared some of the same experiences. I have referred to my life as being one where “I’m always good enough to make the team, but then I sit on the bench all season.” My child and I have each had a life with many blessings but also a not uncommon sense of inadequacy. We are each the type who always makes it to what is considered the upper level, but then is in last place at that level. In this very competitive world there is a constant reminder “I am in the bottom and have failed again”. It might be the bottom of the best, but it is still the bottom. In this very competitive world it is difficult to acknowledge “I have accomplished a great deal.” It is especially hard to acknowledge accomplishment when the pain is fresh.

I do my best to ackowledge the pain, tend to the fragility, and indicate the blessings–in equal parts. I hope I am right and that I have done those things in at least an adequate fashion. In any case, I have done my best. I am a mother and so I wonder.

It continues, and continues and continues….