Please forgive my extended silence. We've had multiple projects going on at our home and then last week I came down with an ugly bronchitis and fever. I am amazed at how weak I feel and the amount of sleep I've needed over the last few days. I've had a blog mulling in my mind for days now so am going to try to actually get it down in writing before I must return to bed once more.
The following thoughts were prompted by a conversation I had a few weeks ago with a dear friend. She asked me, "When do we ever stop mothering our children?" I think my answer was "I don't know if we do."
This question caused me to recall an experience I'd had the month before. I'd been enjoying daily soaks in our hot tub very early in the morning. During this time I witnessed what appeared to be a family of crows build a nest in a gigantic pine tree at the corner of our property. I knew when the babies hatched because I saw the crows continually fly back to the nest with food...there were about four crows buzzing around the nest at all times. When it came time for these little birdies to learn to fly I was fascinated by what I saw. It began with hops among the branches of the nesting tree with short flights either up or down to other branches. I wasn't there to see how the hatchlings got across our yard into one of our giant redwoods but one morning, there they were.
What I witnessed was truly remarkable. The adult crows stationed themselves at various trees surrounding the Redwood and appeared to call to the youngsters (please forgive my anthropomorphizing). The babies would flap their wings and hop from branch to branch but could not make themselves take the leap into mid-air to fly all the way back to the nesting tree (half a football field away) or to any of the trees closer to the Redwood. The adlult crows would swoop in and nuzzle the hatchlings with a very tender warbling sound that even to my ears sounded encouraging, very "mothering" if you will. At one point I heard a loud caw that sounded serious. Sure enough four crows flew out to chase an incoming hawk away from the hatchlings. Raising these baby crows definitely took a village.
After much encouragement the baby crows, one by one, made their very wobbly flights back to the nest. This back and forth continued until the babies were flying happily on their own. I haven't seen much of the crows since that time.
A few weeks later I saw a red-tailed hawk raise its young (in the same tree--I'm wondering if there isn't a communal nest going on up there). When it came time for the youngster to learn to fly I saw none of the encouragement the crows had exhibited--this little guy appeared to be on its own once it flew from the nesting tree to the Redwood. It spent days making a very plaintiff call but no one came. It could be that it's mother had sadly lost her life or that hawks, being loners by nature, do not spend a lot of time with their hatchlings once they're fully feathered and able to fly, no matter how awkwardly.
All of this to say that each of us creatures has our own mothering "dance." Some use a community approach like the crows where there are what appears to be numerous "mothers" while others mother their babes alone. Some offer lots of encouragement and protection while others may not.
So...to answer my friends question: do we ever stop mothering? I think I need to modify my answer to her and say that it depends on the situation and the specific needs of our child. Especially once our children are well into adulthood, we need to be able to check in by making a phone call to see how much contact is needed/desired and then to be able to step back and modify our behaviors depending on what we learn. Relationships are a dance and the steps are always changing...I do not "mother" our 35-year-old daughter Jocelyn the way I did when she was 13. I follow her lead in how much she wants my involvement in her life, always remembering that I must be careful to balance my needs with my daughter's needs--giving too much of myself can be as harmful as giving too little. I do not however, ever stop being Jocelyn and Andrea's mom--that is a forever role.
Blessings until next time,
Doris
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