We frequently hear that 18 years old is the age we are “done with our children.”
That somehow this magical number makes them “adult” and ready to take on the world.
I don’t know that I ever expected to be done being his mom at 18 , but I had NO CLUE the pressure of ushering a young man into adulthood would be this intense.
I sat down the other night and wrote down all of the shit I think he needs to learn to successfully “adult” and I had to pour myself a glass of wine 3 times as I wrote it all down.
Don’t get me wrong, Lyric is in no way sheltered or immature, but he will definitely need my guidance as he opens a bank account, starts paying bills, builds credit, rents, buys, etc..
I only learned about a lot of the things mentioned above 7 years ago!
I found myself feeling like I did when I was 17 and feeding him at 3am.
But a few days after I made the list, I sat with it again and developed a new list of core things I am responsible for teaching him. As he reaches each milestone I will check it off. I left blank lines for some of the shit he shows me, because Lyric…. 😏
Doing so has eased my panic into a productive and steady anxiety most days.
Which is better.
Through the anxiety, I am trying to breathe, to enjoy being a part of this stage in his life, and to bask in being his mom. He is an awesome human. 💗
But know that I freak out while Googling “how to not fvck up your kid’s transition to adulthood” for at least 10-30 minutes, 5 out of 7 nights.