The effects of good parenting

I have no children this week. For the first time in 20 years, I have an entire week of no children. My youngest two are in California to visit family, and my oldest two are locked up. The first thing I did after taking the kids to the airport was to come home and clean the house. Then, I sat very still and observed as it stayed clean. Did you know that a house could do that? I previously had no idea such a phenomenon was actually possible.

I'm glad to have some time to think, God knows I need it right now. I'm struggling to be an effective human being in the midst of overwhelming circumstances, and I've not got the hang of it yet. Having time without the kids should allow me a bit of adjustment time before they return and I have to think on my feet again.

Michael was sent to prison last week. This is not a sentence any mother is prepared to voice. Just saying that in the privacy of my thoughts is about enough to spider-leg my lashes. I kept thinking that once he got to sentencing, the judge would see how unjust this whole thing was. That the judge would send Michael home. He might be on probation, sure, but he could get back to the business of living. But, the judge didn't see things my way at all. The powers that be have determined that society is best served by keeping my eldest son out of circulation for the time being. The reality of this enrages and frightens me. How do I live with it? How will he?

Don't you dare spout platitudes about how God is Good, and it'll all work out for the best. Those sorts of things are not at all in question. The day-to-day horror of living in the trenches is what makes those truths so remarkable. Once I get my feet under me, I'll be able to say that "God is Good" with something like credibility. It's hearing it from people who have never had a problem that really sounds useless and hollow.

As if having a beautiful son in prison weren't quite enough to grapple with, why, God has seen fit to grant me three other teenagers as well. I say "other teenagers" because Michael won't yet be 20 until a week from tomorrow. This means that I am the proud mother of 4 teenagers. Stressful much?

Don is locked away in a town some distance from us. Tim and I drive the 5 hours to visit as often as we can. It isn't enough. I've been waiting for Don to put this all behind him since he was 14. Every time he got thrown back in treatment, I waited for him to get clean and come home, just so eager to have my son back. I'm finally, barely, starting to understand that he is never going to come home and be my little boy again. Part of this is due to his age. Now that he's 18, he doesn't actually have to come home at all. Part of this is due to the fact that he was 13 when he became an addict, and so even if he does kick his addiction, he's changed so much that I don't even recognize parts of him.

It is a wonder to me that my heart continues to beat when it is so crushed.

There are still two children at home (or rather, there will be after Spring break) who need me to faithfully parent with all my heart. I am grappling with the very real need to pour myself out unconditionally in mothering these two, knowing that it's not actually guaranteed to do any good. That's the thing. Parenting means that I will give all that I am to loving  and teaching these persons, who then go off and do whatever they want when their brains aren't even fully developed.One only hopes that they don't do irreparable damage before they figure out that Mom and Dad were right all along.

Patti told me to quit feeling sorry for myself. She may be right. It's a bit more than that, though. It's grief. I miss my kids so much. I grieve my dreams for them. I miss being a perfect, self-righteous, judgemental mom who had it all figured out. Gosh, those were the days!

I'm going to relish the quiet of Spring break. I fully intend to keep watching the house stay clean, and to sit in the silence to think. Hopefully, by the time the kids get off the plane, I'll have wrapped my head around the current state of things.