We mark the progress of our lives in many ways. There are
milestones and events in life that we will always remember.
We mark the progress of our lives in many ways. There are milestones and events in life that we will always remember. One that will make any person’s top 10 list of important life events is leaving the nest. We all spend many years under the care, comfort and guidance of our parents until the day we walk away and start to build a life of our own. This past weekend, Renée and I took our son to Santa Barbara where he will start building his.
According to the manual, this is where I am supposed to be filled with wistful recollections of tender moments, his first steps, learning to ride a bike, when he was so cute and needed us so much. I should be feeling the poignant emotions that come when juxtaposing the young child he once was and the hopeful, able young man who is beginning life on his own. That’s only part of what I am feeling. A small part.
My son’s parting has left me with a bucket of ambivalent emotions. I have written before with a touch of humor that after 19 years on the job as a parent, I still have no idea what I am doing. But I am only half kidding. Renée and I have been second-guessing ourselves throughout our son’s adolescence. His coming of age has been a confounding riddle for which we never seemed to have the right answer.
This separation was not as I hoped it would be. We did not part as I imagined Ward Cleaver and the Beaver probably did. I am sure that when Andy Taylor sent Opie out into the world, it was with a pat on the back and good wishes. But there was some restraint, even subdued acrimony, in our goodbyes. For some time now, our son could (or would) not meet some very basic rules and responsibilities of household citizenship. On the other hand, he would say that we nagged and hassled him too much about too little.
No parent wants to send his child into the world this way. It feels lousy. I believe our son has a solid core, and I believe Renée and I have been good parents. When our son emerges into adulthood, I believe he will make an excellent account of himself in the world.
But I remain confounded. Does he know we are proud of him and that we think his abilities are limitless, or has all the harping led him to believe that we see him as a failure — a bad kid? Were we firm enough with him or too hard line? We sought help and attacked our questions from every angle, but I can’t shake the feeling that we missed something — that we could have done more.
I suppose I am like a million other parents — talking about these difficulties as if I am the first person to face them. They say misery loves company, but it is no comfort here. How can what is essentially so simple, be so confounding? We could summarize our concerns to our son in a short sentence, and I am sure he could do likewise. But somehow we created a canyon that we could only occasionally bridge.
So, parents of young children, beware. Your time is coming. Every child is a different package. If you are lucky, you will get a low-maintenance model, and you will wonder what the hell I am talking about or what my deficiencies are. But if you get the ultra high-maintenance model, I wish for you inexhaustible reservoirs of love and patience. You will need them, and more.
Ron Erskine has lived and worked as a builder and brewery owner in South Valley for 20 years. He lives in Morgan Hill with his wife and two children.
