It’s been a long time since I’ve written a blog. On a few occasions during this hiatus, readers have sent me messages asking when I’m going to write my next one. Days became weeks and before I knew it, a couple of months. In that time the spammers have had a field day and I’ve spent the first half-hour deleting in bulk. Thanks, but no, I’m not interested in watching home porn, finding a husband on your portals promising me millionaires looking for women like me nor do I want to buy the best Vape.
The kids came home with Covid. Great. They’d escaped it for two and a half years, only to catch it whilst at school. No matter, they got through the virus within a few days, and then yours truly fell prey to the ‘Rona’. ‘But you’re vaxxed!’ My unvaccinated people would cry out, leaving me with no other choice but to reciprocate their statement with such diplomatic eloquence, that even Kofi Annan would have been impressed. ‘Umm, being vaccinated isn’t the same as an immunisation.’
Because I’m immunocompromised, Covid hit me hard. I do not want it again. Bloody awful experience and not something I will forget easily. So, when I was strong enough, my little family and I headed across the English Channel, to see ‘la famille Française’. An opportunity to rehabilitate and for the kids to see their French cousins, too.
Now, we’re all big enough and ugly enough to know about sneaking out at night while the adults are sleeping. What the two older ones don’t realise, is that we were aware of their Great Escapades. What lengths they went to, to perform these antics however is impressive. If anyone needs two nimble cat-burglars, feel free to contact me (I joke). The line and our patience as parents was crossed when the girls had snuck out with barely any phone battery the night before we were heading back for England. True, when we snuck out, mobile phones didn’t exist and there was no way of tracking us down, so we were free to roam, like farmyard chickens. But now, in an era of paranoia, even the most chilled-out folk become sucked into this need for having information about everything, at their fingertips. Trackers for kids are good in some respects but then do we need to stalk our kids? Let hem have fun and experience youth without the fear of the parents calling to tell them that they shouldn’t be where they’re currently at; that’s also when the little cherubs switch off their location and ghost their parents. It’s at this point, I, personally know it’s time to start letting go.
I’m going through that again. I surprised myself with how relaxed I was with my eldest. She was truthful with me AND I didn’t have a tracker for her, yet she was in London a lot. People asked if I wasn’t worried. Dumb question. Of course, I worried, but I also knew that she was sensible and took my advice. The same applied to her first boyfriend. I knew him and his background. He was a lovely young man. It was time for me to let go. Now I’m at the same place with daughter #2. She has a boyfriend, I have met the mother and I can safely say we were all nervous about the first meeting in equal measure. Once again, I find that the perpetual cycle of the parent and young adult relationship has resumed and daughter #2 confides in me, I trust her and trust in her. She’s happy, I’m happy and that’s how I can let go a lot easier.
I don’t want my kids to be afraid of life. Yes, it’s shitty at times, but they have to learn to fly on their own. We can all breathe easy. Two kids down, one to go….(watch this space).
Have a great week, Eva x ©