Yes -- It's Been That Long
Where Is Big Light In Sky?

Ten Things About Being The Parent Of A Grownup

This one is for all the parents of little ones. I think it was when SonnyeBoy graduated from the police academy that it hit me – I was the parent of a grown-up. Maybe it was the Sig Sauer on his hip, maybe it was that he changed his address so that he'd get his bills at his new place, maybe it was ... oh, I don't know.

Anyway, in the interest of preparing you for the inevitable, here are ten things about being the parent of a grownup. And if you're already the parent of grownups, feel free to contribute!

  1. They never write; they never call… no, seriously – you don't see them every day. You have to get used to that, which is what college is for, I suppose.
  2. You can't tell them what to do anymore – no matter how much you want to, they persist in making their own decisions. Hmph.
  3. You have to get your own snacks.
  4. You have to mow the lawn (or pay someone to do it). I have a theory about kids and lawn mowing: there is one year when kids (especially boy kids, and don't give me crap about that) will think that mowing the lawn is the coolest thing in the whole entire world and they will beg you to let them mow the lawn – but they will still be one year too young to be able to do it safely. The very next year, when they are finally able to mow the lawn safely, mowing the lawn will be the worst, most horrible, most soul-sucking thing you can ask them to do, unless you pay them. A lot. And they will still whine and complain the whole entire time.
  5. Extra space!
  6. You can no longer fix it. No matter how much you want to, you can't fix it. And it makes you feel really helpless.
  7. They pay their own bills.
  8. They make scarily good decisions – better than some of your own, which is really scary.
  9. "Because I said so" doesn't work. Come to think of it, it rarely did.
  10. That fierce love you felt when you first held that tiny body in your arms and counted ten fingers and ten toes and filled your lungs with that sweet baby head smell and felt that impossibly small hand grip your finger – that fierce, fiery love that overtakes your soul – never ever fades, not one little bit.

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