Raising Adult Children

A lot of times, I write about my frustrations with my children,  now ages 24, 22 and 20. No more teenagers, yet this summer, we all find ourselves together living within our small house.
As the children grew, the house began to feel smaller, of course. Tucker is 6-feet tall and Spencer is 6-foot 4-inches tall, while Grace is 5-foot 10-inches. Everyone in the family towers over me. And if we get in the living room together, everyone's long legs jut into the middle and make me feel a little claustrophobic.

We convinced Grace to live at home until after a trip to London this fall. She has an apartment ready to move into when she returns, if she returns. She's hoping to find work in London. We told her it didn't make sense to rent a place if she might move. Getting through a summer with her brothers in the house is  proving to be a challenge though. The boys believe they have an innate right to choose the television stations, even though there's another equally good television in the basement.
And the two boys can be intolerant of Grace when she's dramatic. That's why she's an actress though.
Yesterday while I was at work, Grace and Spencer got into a fight. This wasn't the first time.
Grace had said hurtful words to Spencer earlier in the summer, and now Spencer had a chance to fling them back at Grace.
As I talked to them both individually last evening, I realized what they didn't -- the words had hurt each of them.
I mean, Grace knew she was hurt by Spencer's words, and Spencer knew he was hurt by Grace's words, but neither of them realized how hurtful they had been to the other.
"He's holding onto that pain a month later," I explained to Grace.
And I also let Spencer know how deep his shot had landed on his sister.
Last night, as Spence headed to bed, he stopped by Grace's bedroom. I didn't hear his apology, but I was encouraged that he'd reached that place of maturity. He didn't want her hurting.
And that's my hope for the future with my kids. They realize how important they are to each other, even when they're fighting. Their opinions matter. Their judgment of each other matters, even when they say it doesn't.
Tucker has vacated the house for 10 days, going on a hiking trip to Utah with some friends.

He texted me throughout the day, and night, as they drove. "To Illinois."
"In Nebraska where the time changes."
"Driving straight thru instead of stopping."
"Just got to Salt Lake City."
With five of them in the car, they drove overnight.
Sometimes it's easier for Tucker and me to communicate when he's far away. He's still in that stage where I might not get more than a grunt or nod out of him in the morning or when he comes home from work.
As I was walking this morning, I heard a song.

And it immediately took me back to a time with Tucker. 

When Tucker was 11, his brother and sister had started school while Tucker continued to homeschool. He was at a swimming peak, and the two of us often drove to swim meets together.
Tucker would make CDs for us to listen to in the car, and this was one of the songs he included.
I remember listening to the song and dancing in the driver's seat, and embarrassing Tucker. But we laughed about it.
Every song I hear from that CD reminds me of those good shared experiences, and the kid who is in there and might, like a butterfly, emerge again.
Meanwhile, he's doing what he needs to. He works five days a week, he's taking college classes, he's playing soccer or Frisbee golf or working out, and he's spending time with friends.
Someday we may laugh again about something ridiculous, but in the end, I know he loves me, even if he isn't that 11-year-old anymore.
Maybe you can remind me the next time I'm kvetching about my kids, that there's good too. I just have to remember it.

Domino Effect

You know how one thing leads to another.
Nothing is ever simple. I'm learning that lesson all over again tonight.
Grace will be home tomorrow. (Yay!)
That means, I have to clean out her bedroom, a room that her younger brother claimed before her flight left Columbus.
In order to clean out her room, I have to move Tucker. He doesn't want to share a room with Spencer so he'll get the basement rec room futon. He has a dresser there, but no place to hang his hoodies and the button-up shirts he has started wearing.
So before I can move him, I have to figure out where to hang up his clothes.
Then it hit me. I have a coat tree in my room that holds purses, scarves, belts and my robe. I can clean that off and move it downstairs for Tucker's things.
I looked in my closet to figure out where to hang the robe and the scarves. Then I needed to clean the warm weather clothes out of my closet in order to make room for the things hanging on the coat tree, in order to move Tucker's things to the rec room, in order to begin cleaning Grace's room for her 40-day stay at home before she moves off to college and I'll reverse that order.
I have no hopes that her room will be as clean as it was here in June 2009 when I spent three days straightening it, but I know it will be a bit more organized than Grace left it when she went to France and Tucker is leaving it as he moves to the basement bedroom. I'm going to start in there by picking up the dirty socks and the wadded up tissues. Who knows if there's still a nice wood floor under all those discarded bath towels.

Family Sports Outing

One of my laments in the past has been "not enough family at holidays." This year, they made up for it. Mom and Dad came up from Florida and my brother Craig came from Texas with his 21-year-old son and 16-year-old daughter. They stayed with my other brother, Kevin, in Dayton, but last night everyone came to Columbus to watch one of Spencer's basketball games.
My family is very competitive. They always have been. Both my brothers play tennis so that is their main competition, but they don't limit it. They'll compete with my 74-year-old dad in ping pong, cards, and even who can eat spicier food. Neither of my brothers' sons got into high school sports. I wasn't sure how it would go when they came to watch Spencer play. I was also a little nervous that Spencer might not do well on the one night they were there.

We sat, all 10 of us, in the bleachers watching Spencer give chest bumps to the starters. Spencer didn't start and didn't play for most of the first quarter. I was getting nervous. He usually gets into the game pretty quickly. The coach moves all the Varsity players in and out.
Finally Spencer got a chance to play.
I sat next to my brothers and they talked about offenses and zone defenses that were over my head. When Spencer blocked a shot, sending the ball back to the court, they whooped with glee. Craig kept track of Spencer's stats and typed them into his phone. He yelled loudly to disrupt the other team when they were shooting free throws. My brothers were proud of their nephew, and so was I.
I liked sharing that experience with my family, and realize now that the nerves before hand all have to do with living up to expectations. When it comes to sports, it's pretty much all enjoyable to my brothers and Dad. But it sure would have been worse if Spencer hadn't played well.
He scored 8, blocked 4 and rebounded 6.
I keep picturing my brothers' delight at the game. It's a picture that I replay in my head -- one that will pop to mind when I think about my brothers.