For those who have never heard it, there's a verse that says "Her children will rise up and call her blessed". It's supposed to be the ultimate goal of a mom but... what if the Children rise up and call her on her crap? Then what's a mom to do?
I have four children. I am a stay at home mom who has home schooled them nearly all their lives. Five years ago, we moved to a log cabin in the boondocks. I think it's safe to say... we've met. It is a strange thing when my kids confront me with things I am struggling with as a person. As they have grown I have strived to teach them the finer skills of reading people and situations. They have learned well, and that is usually a favorite quality to me... until they use it on me.
My oldest son is half past 17. He is the age I was when I married his father. He is still immature at times (particularly when holding a controller or air soft gun) but he can turn into an adult at the most inopportune moments. Like, when I am behaving like a child. My daughter is nearly 16 and she too is a changeling. I have always said that I am raising adults, not children, and have always known that I would reap what I have sown in them. It is harder though, as they see things in me I don't want to see myself. I have myself to blame when they call me on it too, as I have taught them to call a "spade a spade", "better a wound from a friends then a kind word from an enemy" and that you "can't fix what you don't know is broken". Nearly gone are my little students, and in their place are some of my favorite people. They challenge me, encourage me, watch me and listen to me. They are insightful, driven, creative, caring and increasingly... right. I see somethings in them that are hard to see too. I see that there are, at times, a sharp edge to the words they choose. I see that they will occasionally say things with little tact or love in the name of truth telling, and I know where they learned that too.
This parenting thing is complicated. I am growing up with my kids and boy do we have a lot to learn. I'm glad the youngest one is still only 7. I can handle being the mature one in at least that relationship.