Dear ones, we notice the change in our children when they suddenly eye us strangely, when they criticise us, challenge us, question us and throw us out of their emotional lives with a „You don’t get it anyway“. When they react with a shrug of the shoulders or are constantly annoyed – by our statements and announcements, by our breathing, by our being. We are observed, tested, evaluated… and we slip into a kind of mum grief.
Mama grief: judged, scrutinised, criticised
Do any of you here feel like you’ve been picked up and know all this? Doesn’t it sometimes feel like heartbreak to you? Don’t you sometimes secretly wonder? Where has it gone, that sweet little Tapse foot that cuddled up to me anxiously during thunderstorms, that let me explain God and the world to it, that glorified me and said it would always love us and never take us off? Do you think they’ll be like that to make it easier for us to say goodbye later?
Joking aside. Today we want to see how we can manage not to take the new – let’s say distant – behaviour, the feeling of being sorted out, of no longer being part of the feeling and school life personally. A first step is certainly to hear that other parents feel the same way, that they feel similarly to you! And I’ll tell you this: I hear it from so, so many! It’s not just you.
The children who were still enthusiastically climbing trees and shouting „Mummy, mummy, look“ are now lying down. And lying there. Behind the bedroom door. And only make noises in response to questions instead of giving answers. Wswillsdu? Sheeeesh. And if we could at least rely on that! But there’s so much ambiguity.
Because on a good day, they suddenly come out and ask about the meaning of life and grumble about shit school, throw up on some TikTok political account and surprise us with a kiss in public. Huh?!?! Then weeks of radio silence again, during which mountains of crockery go missing. „Can you bring it down?“ Chill out.
Everything is so unpredictable and every day is a surprise! Sometimes it’s a push and pull – like magnets. It’s inscrutable. Probably for our children themselves! How difficult it must be for them too! Or is it? We don’t really know. We actually thought the baby phase was over, when we always had to puzzle over what the little ones might need, what they might mean – now it’s back. At full speed.
We feel our way, we let ourselves be asked out, we worry about a vague nothingness. Or is there something? Is there a strain from outside? Do we need to intervene and help? Or is this all just a phase? In which worlds is it travelling right now?
„My child, who was so bright just a few minutes ago, is almost sore, he’s still in contact with his bed sheets and his mobile phone,“ said a friend recently. And when they do go out, they’re belly-baring in clothes that are far too short. There’s a no-belly policy at school – but nobody sticks to it. At the parent-teacher conference, they suddenly say that if things go on like this, it will just be enough for a secondary school leaving certificate. That was the child with the A’s in primary school!
Our children in grumpy and monster mode
Call it grumpy or monster mode, how much has everything changed! Were we like that ourselves? We didn’t have mobile phones… did we find our parents so embarrassing and let us out of the car two streets away so that we wouldn’t be seen together? Did we immediately block questions and then say nothing at all? As a negative spiral?
Suddenly we are negotiating with people who are a head taller than us, clearing insecurities out of the way instead of building blocks and walking the tightrope between „leave me alone“ and „I need you“. How do we leave the door open to them when we are so often confronted? How do we manage to remain conciliatory instead of thinking „That’s what you get now“? How do we manage the balancing act between giving direction and respecting them, between not being overbearing and still not losing them completely?
What battles are we prepared to fight? Do we accept the 13-year-old’s tantrum before school starts because we ask to change his jumper and his gel hairstyle is destroyed in the process, or is it not worth the bad mood? Where do we draw the line for ourselves? I’ll do it now „No now.“ End of the world.
How do we remain the rock that doesn’t waver in the surf? How do we remain optimistic when our school-leaving certificate wobbles? How do we persevere when we see other parents still being hugged? Perhaps by knowing who we are. By having clear values and attitudes that we can refer back to when we are the focus of criticism. And by asking ourselves: Is the situation (super)crucial at the moment or not? And always with heart and empathy, as cheesy as that sounds.
A jumper that doesn’t match your trousers might simply not be worth slamming the door in the morning. We can simply take her taste seriously and smile about it. If drugs are involved or radicalisation on the net, on the other hand, we have to get into the action.
And if we don’t say „It’s your own fault, just see where you can get the money to replace it“ in response to a sunken mobile phone at the pool party, but rather „Fuck, I’m so sorry for you, I know how important the device is to you, let’s see if we can get it back in rice“, then that can make a lasting and permanent difference. No bamboozling, but compassion.
And this also means that there is no ban on football for bad grades. It’s more like „I’m so sorry, get your feelings out on the pitch first, let off steam and then I’ll keep my fingers crossed that your transfer still works out“. In the end, it’s all about your inner attitude: I’m always there for you. You can rely on that.
(Meant as a basic attitude and not for every specific situation, of course. Because if you say „You have bad breath“ instead of „Good morning“, you can of course still have breakfast in another room. Afterwards, the door can be opened again to do better next time… if we treat them with respect, we can expect respect in return, that’s clear and a basic attitude that is worthwhile, at least in my experience. Do you have any others?)
