"Life is just a chair of bowlies". Right now I don't think I can really improve on that statement. This is mainly because I have three children. Well....they aren't really children anymore but as a parent, the tendency is to continue to refer to your offspring as children no matter how old they are. For instance, my baby (It's a Boy) is 16 years old. Now that's a big baby boy. I have two daughters who have "left the nest". This implies that I, as the parental unit, would no longer have to worry about said daughters. Can you hear me laughing hysterically? Why didn't anyone warn me about this before I decided to have children...much less daughters? This isn't to say that said daughters don't constantly tell me that I shouldn't worry. That everything is/will be just fine. Oh right! That just sends warning sirens blaring like the air-raid sirens in Baghdad and Kuwait and I don't get to hear the "all clear" sirens. I didn't write the following article but I thought I'd share it with you because it speaks so clearly to me about my life right now.

The Cutoff Period

Is there a magic cutoff period when offspring become accountable for their own actions? Is there a wonderful moment when parents can become detached spectators in the lives of their children and shrug, "It's their life,"and feel nothing?

When I was in my twenties, I stood in a hospital corridor waiting for doctors to put a few stitches in my son's head. I asked, "When do you stop worrying?" The nurse said, "When they get out of the accident stage, " My mother just smiled faintly and said nothing.

When I was in my thirties, I sat on a little chair in a classroom and heard how one of my children talked incessantly, disrupted the class, and was headed for a career making license plates. As if to read my mind, a teacher said, "Don't worry, they all go through this stage and then you can sit back, relax and enjoy them." My mother just smiled faintly and said nothing.

When I was in my forties, I spent a lifetime waiting for the phone to ring, the cars to come home, the front door to open. A friend said, "They're trying to find themselves. Don't worry in a few years, you can stop worrying. They'll be adults." My mother just smiled faintly and said nothing.

By the time I was 50, I was sick & tired of being vulnerable. I was still worrying over my children, but there was a new wrinkle. There was nothing I could do about it. My mother just smiled faintly and said nothing.

I continued to anguish over their failures, be tormented by their frustrations and absorbed in their disappointments. My friends said that when my kids got married I could stop worrying and lead my own life. I wanted to believe that, but I was haunted by my mother's wan smile and her occasional, "You look pale. Are you all right? Call me the minute you get home. Are you depressed about something?"

Can it be that parents are sentenced to a lifetime of worry? Is concern for one another handed down like a torch to blaze the trail of human frailties and the fears of the unknown? Is concern a curse or is it a virtue that elevates us to the highest form of life?

One of my children became quite irritable recently, saying to me, "Where were you? I've been calling for 3 days, and no one answered. I was worried." I smiled a wan smile. The torch has been passed.

I haven't arrived at the point in my life yet where "The torch has been passed." My mother and my mother-in-law (God bless them) are still smiling wanly. I've just joined them on more occasions then I care to think about.
But I said nothing about my baby. You ask me, "What about him?". I will be honest with you. After my experience with my daughters, my poor baby boy is watched with a wary eye. When is this bomb going to explode? I'll keep you updated but so far, thankfully, our rollercoaster ride with our son has been fairly peaceful. However, we may just be chugging up that long, steep hill before the precipitous drop. Not being psychic (though both my daughters claim I am), I have no way of knowing. I do know and state categorically that I don't like rollercoaster rides no matter how tame they are. And after my experience with my daughters (who I will always love dearly)....you couldn't pay me to go on one.