Of Parenting Adults by Konnie Enos

My youngest child is now nineteen. He needs a doctor’s appointment.

One day I was talking to him about this need and telling him he needed to call the doctor’s office and make the appointment.

He started ranting about how I didn’t throw his siblings in the “deep end” when they turned eighteen.

His brother, my twenty-year-old, walked into the room during our argument.

I turned to his brother. “Tony, what was the last time I made an appointment for you?”

“Eye doctor, a few days after I turned 18, but you'd made it before my birthday, the appointment was after it.”

I remember it. I had an appointment too. They handed us paperwork. I handed one clipboard to him. “Here, you’re an adult now. This is your job.”

He sighed and did his own paperwork.

I have not dealt with any of his medical care since including him finding his primary care doctor, setting up his appointments, and making sure he had a way to get there.

All of my other children have since confirmed that I have not made any appointments for them since they turned eighteen.

I have and do drive kids to their appointments, but I don’t make them nor do I attend them unless my perfectly capable adult child asks me to. They are capable of making their own decisions.

For example, my oldest is now married, with a child.

I have no right to tell her how to raise my grandchild or how many kids she should have. I have no right to tell her when and how often she should visit us. I can’t tell her how to spend her money or what to spend it on. I can’t tell her where to live.

If she asks me for advice, I can give my opinion, but I can’t expect her to follow it. That’s between her and her husband.

My other children are still at home but I still have little say in how they run their lives.

I cannot dictate where they work or who they see or even if they attend college/additional schooling or not. I can’t tell them when to be home.

I can tell them to do their chores. I can tell them to let me know things such as where they’re going and when they expect to be back. Its common courtesy to let those you live with know where you might be and when to be expected.

Even as their parent, and even if I’m paying all their bills, I have no legal right to talk to doctors about their health and/or care or teachers about their grades or classwork unless my child gives consent. I have no right to know how much they are earning or what they are spending their money on, nor do I have a right to tell them how to spend their money.  

I am their mother. I can be worried about them all I want but they are adults.

I’m always astounded when I hear of parents who still want to dictate the lives of their adult children and even get upset when those children cut them out of their lives.

What did you expect?

They’re adults and can make their own choices.

Seriously, if we can expect these kids to be intelligent enough to vote then they are smart enough to make their own decisions. If you honestly think your kids can’t handle it (assuming they don’t have a diagnosed condition which can diminish mental capacity, like Down’s syndrome), then you need to reexamine your parenting.

I’ve tried to raise my kids to be responsible adults.

Now I have to convince my youngest that he is capable of dealing with adulthood. I mean it’s not like his dad and I aren’t right here to back him up.

In all honesty, because he is on the spectrum and has some learning delays, I have gone to his appointments and will continue to do so until I’m sure he can one) understand everything he’s told at these appointments and two) remember it long enough and well enough to relate anything I do need to know to me. His siblings didn’t need this kind of back up.

I do however stand my ground. As I told him. “I’m not going to be around forever.”

 He is as capable of learning how to be an adult as he is of learning how to cook his food. Which he has been doing.

The other night he made himself tuna casserole.

I may never see him fly the nest, but at least I’ll know he can take care of himself when I’m gone.

Smile. Make the day a brighter day.