In my head, I know that parenthood is just a scaffolding, a temporary support during our children's construction of the actual building of their adult lives. But inwardly, I am beginning the uneasy process of squaring my heart with their growing up and leaving.
Robby Auld came onto my radar when he reviewed my book for The Nervous Breakdown, writing one of the most thoughtful assessments of my memoir to date. I couldn't help wanting to know more about the kid who cracked the literary scene.
I remember dressing the morning of the show, putting on my snappiest outfit, aware that the TV cameras would probably do head shots of the audience, as they often did in the smaller Philadelphia studio.
Perhaps the nucleus to a better humanity is to practice deep listening, humility and reconstruct the harmful, seductive narratives of violence into healing, self-actualizing narratives of deliberate peace.
Modern parents have been coached to build their children's self-esteem by offering lavish praise. What parents often fail to do is prepare them for the inevitable disappointments and failures they will encounter.
If we fail to offer the skills of self-awareness, self-mastery, and resilience to this generation, we are leaving them disadvantaged and ill-equipped, with some in a precarious position as they try to find their way in this increasingly high-stress world.
I remember when I was a teenager and I believed my mother didn't understand a thing about me. Now, of course, I realize what a confused, angry, mixed-up, total pain in the ass I was back then. I also realize my mother was the same age when she had me as I was when I had my first child.