As a mom of older teens – actually, one of them is officially no longer a teen tomorrow- (BTW, how on earth can I be this old?), I am finally learning to let go of sweating the small stuff. Instead, I’m learning to celebrate the small victories of their learning how to be adults.
I am a lifelong and chronic “small stuff sweater” (although not quite as sweaty as my husband). Not even Lume makes a deodorant strong enough for the kind of sweating I have done when it comes to my children.
Side note: If you want a chuckle, Google “Lume Deodorant Commercials”. I promise that you will thank me later. Here’s one of my favorites. (And no, I’m not being paid by them).
Additional side note: I have heard that Lume works.
Despite my constant anxiety (hello, my name is Heather, and I have Anxiety with a capital “A”), I am also a “Don’t sweat the small stuff” preacher to my kids and anyone else who will listen.
But until recently, I have been a hypocrite. For years, I’ve been more like Olaf sitting by the fire when it came to issues with my kids. But I realize that it is beyond time to reverse course.
Remember when our babies were actually still babies? Remember when every little milestone was met with praise and applause? Remember how those accolades led to giant toothless grins and a repeat of the behavior we were celebrating?
I have decided that that is the kind of reinforcement my big kiddos need when it comes to “adulting.” Or, at least sort of.
Maybe I won’t clap my hands and give them M&Ms after they have had a successful trip to the potty (although, if you’ve seen some dorm bathrooms, it’s possible they need that kind of encouragement!). But maybe I will focus on subtly building them up when they reach more adult milestones.
And maybe I will back off a little when they mess up. (Note that this is an aspirational, rather than a definitive post).
This summer, my son left our family vacation a couple of days early so that he could get home to go to work. On the morning that he had to be back at work, he woke up early and fixed himself breakfast and made lunch to take to work with him. He also decided that he would like to have a fresh tomato sandwich for dinner.
Having no tomatoes in the house, he decided to stop by the farmer’s market on the way to work to buy fresh tomatoes. While at the farmer’s market, he saw some okra and decided he would also like some fried okra as well. Realizing that we had no fresh bread at home, he decided to stop at the local bakery on the way home to pick up a loaf of artisan bread (which was not even in my vocabulary at the age of 19).
Having never cooked fried okra (or really much of anything other than grilled cheese sandwiches) before, he called my husband to ask for instructions. We were flabbergasted.
The next day, Jason and I arrived back at home to find a kitchen full of dishes, a sticky floor and counter, and the cast iron skillet full of grease.
Old Heather would have broken out in a sweat from head to toe. Instead, New Heather cleaned the kitchen from top to bottom. When Jack arrived home from work that day, I did not lecture him about having not cleaned the kitchen.
Instead, I praised him for how hard he worked in it, while he shared with us how great his meal was. We also discussed how tired he must have been after a long day of shopping, work and cooking and that he now understood why I always wanted help cleaning the kitchen after dinner.
This moment was a mom triumph for me.
Yesterday, he asked us to send him more recipes that he could cook in his kitchen in his new apartment. When I did, he replied with a “Thank you much.” If you know my Jack, those are two more words that I am accustomed to receiving from him in any text. #winning
Also yesterday, my daughter called to tell me about a TikTok video she had just watched about how no one would ever be able to make your bed as well as your mom did when she first dropped you at college. (https://www.tiktok.com/@mackenziebk/video/7267660007842368810?_t=8fDrsuvUXKk&_r=1)
She said that it had resonated because she had just washed her sheets and was attempting to make it up like I had when I dropped her off. Not only did I rejoice that she noticed that I did something well (#winningagain), I rejoiced that her sheets had been washed already (she’s been there for less than two weeks). #grandprize
Side note: My son stored his unwashed bed linens over the summer and attempted to put them back on his bed. I neither sweated nor celebrated. I simply bought new bed linens.
Then she sent me a picture of her beautifully made bed. My heart swelled with pride.
Recently a friend of mine’s daughter went to the doctor alone for the first time. When asked for her insurance card, she handed them her car insurance card. The entire office got a chuckle out of that, as did we. The same daughter also tipped the cable guy who came over to get her cable set up. Again, we all chuckled.
When our baby adults do things for the first time, there are bound to be mistakes. I am making a concerted effort not to point them out but rather celebrate them for taking steps outside of their normal comfort zones.
I am also attempting to celebrate my slow descent from Anxiety Mountain. It’s been a week now since I have been at home with no children. I am in the process of a mindset switch, and there are days that you may still see me sweaty. We will always have those days.
But hopefully, the celebrations of small things will begin to outnumber the sweating of the same. Because I am sick and tired of sweating.
“Adulting is soup, and I’m a fork.” – unknown