Until recently, I sent my daughters a “love you, sleep tight” text every night. I started when my firstborn went off to college. She rarely answered calls and had no interest in email. The one thing that worked — a.k.a. the tactic that got a response — was a brief text around bedtime. Her reply might be two words, but at least I heard from her. That was all I needed.
When daughter No. 2 left for school a few years later, she was happy to stay connected. She told me about everything, from class projects to her social life to how she almost passed out getting her nose pierced in a tattoo parlor. (Truly, sometimes she told me more than I wanted to know.) We talked regularly, but I still added her to the “good night, love you” lineup.
Two graduations and 15 years later, I was still at it with them both.
That might sound sweet. It wasn’t. The “girls” had reached their 30s, and they didn’t need the interrupting reassurance at 10 p.m. Instead, I was the needy one. Their “love ya” replies let me know they were still alive, and thus, all was right in my world. But it’s not a kid’s job to calm their parent’s anxiety.
Despite this marvelous maternal intuition, the nightly check-ins continued: That is, until my youngest stopped responding promptly. My older daughter also gave me a wake-up call. We were together, I was prying, and she calmly reminded me that she has boundaries. In retrospect, I was glad she felt comfortable enough to communicate like that, but … ouch. Since when did my baby get to have boundaries with her mother?
There was a time my oldest put her hands on her hips and defiantly told me, “You are not the boss of me.” She was 3 years old, and she was wrong. It was indeed my job to tell my toddler what to do. But she’s 33 now. She and her sister now have the autonomy to decide what, when and how they share information with me — just as I have always done with them.
I know I’m not the only one to struggle with this. According to a Pew Research Center report, “The vast majority of mothers (88%) say that being a parent is the most or one of the most important aspects of who they are as a person.” Unfortunately for us, our role as parents isn’t static. When we stop being the boss of them, who are we?
As parents to adults, we can be trusted consultants, and we can work with our children to figure out the best way to communicate. What do they want to know? When do they need to know it? Is a text intrusive? Do I need to text before I call? Are emails ever read? (We all know the answer to that one.)
Parents who want to be closer to their adult children ask those questions and use the answers. I know my daughters want to know the crucial stuff, and they want every detail. When their dad got sick and I took him to the emergency room, both daughters got a text ASAP. On the other hand, when I get twitchy in the evening, I don’t text anymore. I try hard to spare them my parental anxiety.
When I stopped the nightly text, good things started happening. For starters, my stress level went down. Turns out, it’s not healthy to end every day fretting about your adult children. Who knew? My daughters also call more, and the conversations mean more. Bonus: I get to hear their voices, and that makes my mom heart happy.
Here’s another bit of unsolicited advice: Nix the unsolicited advice. When our adult children face problems, parents usually know how to handle it. But inserting ourselves doesn’t always help. If you find yourself answering questions that haven’t been asked, consider this piece of wisdom from my youngest: “I don’t need you to fix this, Mom. I just need you to listen.”
Isn’t that the goal? Kids should grow up and learn to fix their own problems. But isn’t it wonderful if, in addition to their autonomy, they still want to talk with us? That sounds like success to me.
About the author: Jan Sokoloff Harness is the author of “Look Up: Your Unexpected Guide to Good.”
