Your children are not your children.
They are sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you.
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.
-Khalil Gibran
A tattered "Room Mom" hat remains tucked away in a bright but
dusty room in the back of my mind. The silver minivan that played Grease and Mulan
during endless Riley road trips cruised on to the next family long ago, and with
it an expired mom-turned-taxi-driver’s license. My parenting resume, once packed
with diverse family management skills, seems leaner, no longer including
descriptions like "juggler extraordinaire." And although I’m still "Mom," "Mommy" has
been erased—like a beloved nickname stripped from a child at the first signs of
puberty. —
Summer’s approach suddenly appears void of tireless,
strategic plans to quiet the relentless cries of childhood boredom. Thus begins
my struggle of figuring out how to quiet my own cries.
As the mother of a high school junior, my parenting role has changed
significantly over the past year or so, and I saw it coming long ago. The plain truth: I’m not needed as much in a hands-on kind
of way. Of course, I’m there for guidance and meeting all of my daughter’s everyday
needs. For the last 16 years, my world has revolved around Jordan,
completely. And I’ve loved it; it’s completed me. Watching her blossom and grow
into this amazing young woman fills me with awe and happiness. But if I’m
truthful, it fills me with a little bit of sadness too. If I’m not spending all of my time being
Jordan’s mom,
then who am I?
It’s not like I’ve totally lost myself within the walls of
motherhood. When Jordan
was eight-years-old, I left my marketing career to attend college, pursue my
writing passion and earn an English degree. Parenting remained my first
priority; each semester, my school schedule centered around Jordan’s
so that I wouldn’t miss a thing. It proved challenging but it
worked. It’s just what you do when you have kids.
So it’s a little strange now to think about concentrating on
finding myself rather than on losing her. But that’s what I’m setting out to
do. I know it’s important. Being a strong role model has been an integral part
of parenting, and I want to continue the trend. Jordan
should see that I, and eventually she, can be a parent–a mom–while maintaining
a sense of self.
For the first time in a long time, I think about returning
to school. I dream about living in Spain.
I date my husband again. I hang out with girlfriends. I exercise. I write. I
build my social media business. And all the while I relish the moments with my
daughter. As I write this, she texts me while shopping in Union
Square–something she does quite a bit and
something we rarely do together. She no longer needs me by her side,
tugging on the waist of shorts or jeans, making sure they’re the proper fit.
She knows what she’s looking for.
But she values my opinion and advice. Yes,
she still needs her mom. It’s a comforting thought I carry along with me as I
too venture out on my own.
Maria Riley is a Writer and Social Media Consultant. A Southern
transplant now raising a teenage daughter in New York City, she writes,
blogs and tweets from a new New Yorkers’s perspective. You can follow
her adventures at www.LifeofRileyNYC.com and connect on Twitter @LifeofRileyNYC. She lives on Roosevelt Island with her husband and daughter.%uFFFD
