Adult Children

It's all a matter of self-definition. My mother defined herself as mother and housewife. And I defined myself as professional. The first question my mother would ask after being introduced to a friend of mine was, "Is she married?" In all fairness she would ask this of men as well as women. The person could be an important politician or a dedicated social worker, but she saw them through the prism of family. In contrast, I would try to discover, "What does he or she do?" (I wouldn'tusually ask this outright. I knew that reducing a person to profession is as dehumanizing as reducing them to race or nationality.

When I was growing up, there were things my mother used to say that always made me mad. I was determined I would never say the same things to my own kids. Now, at 44 with three growing children, I occasionally hear myself saying, "Sit up straight" and "don't eat with your mouth full" and "if you don't stop fighting in the car, we're going to stop and let you off. And you can walk home." I tell my kids to put hand creme on so their skin won't be dry, and to get off the phone (my daughter, mostly) I often repeat stories from my life that can teach them lessons. Thank God all the things I tell them are for their own good! And I realize, of course, that when my mother said those things to me, she was simply telling me what was for my good.w

I'm seven years old and I'm in the living room with my friend Hannah. She's come over for the afternoon to play. My father is across the room, looking out the window, hands clasped behind his back in a characteristic pose. Suddenly, the sound of a loud, low, long Bronx cheer fills the room. "Did your father just let one?" Hannah asks. "No," I quickly say. "They're building across the street. It's from there." Five years later, I'm in the den with my father, my older brother and his baby son, Joey, who has just learned to get up on all fours.

Dear WholeFamily Counselor, I have been married for twenty-one years. I have three daughters. The two oldest have had a child (one each) within the last year. This has put a huge burden on myself and most of all, my wife. She spends a lot of time caring for the grandchildren. This is something she does not want full time. Both our daughters still live with us. I have asked them to get their own place. This has led to major problems between my wife and me.

Of the many things that I have been taught by life, none are more important than this: IT'S NOT ABOUT ME. As kids we think it's all about us. This one is looking at me funny because of my shirt. That one hates me because I got a better grade: I know because she didn't laugh when I told that joke. Everyone knows I have my period. Mom's nervous because I was late last time and because she doesn't trust me. Dad's in a bad mood because I didn't do that job right. My little brother's crying because Mom yelled because I made her upset.

I'm walking through a field when I am struck by a realization. They've been coming more often in the last couple of years -- one of the gifts of getting older. Sometimes they are about God and the universe but more often they are about my life and relationships -- little crystallization of experience, ripples surfacing from the unconscious realm into the conscious one.