Nourishment

❤

My son just left home to return to university for his fourth year. While not the milestone of a baby’s first introduction to solid food, a toddler’s first steps, a four-year old’s first day of kindergarten, or a teen’s first day of high school, for a mother like me, it’s both exciting and nerve-racking watching him venture off on his journey toward further independence. For some, the desire to protect is fierce and that would be true in my case. There’s a lot of psychology around that but today’s not the day to rationalize it. That’s for me to manage. For now, it’s about keeping myself in check, presenting a reasonable response to a very normal experience that parents and kids go through at these various life stages and changes.

From their earliest age, we are their source of essential needs: food, clothing, safety and shelter, and love and belonging. It was always my goal to do well in the provision of these things and despite some road bumps and throat lumps along the way, I think he/we made out quite well. His well-being has always been my primary purpose and meeting his needs ~ a non-negotiable. And it doesn’t seem to matter how old he is. Being the soft, safe, and trusted place to land will always be a priority for me, unapologetically so.

I’ve faced insult and ridicule in the past because of this but I remember my father once saying to me that his job was to prepare me for a time when he was no longer there, and I’ve always looked at my privilege and responsibility as a parent through that lens. It isn’t about making sure they have everything from a materialistic position. The material is not really the point. For me, it was about my son knowing that come hell or high water, he was never alone. Even as he nears his 21st year, I wanted to show a helping hand to him, sending him off with the essentials: toothpaste, body wash, Q-tips, toilet paper, dish soap, laundry soap, plenty of fluffy towels, something fresh-baked, and some dry foods for the kitchen cupboard. Again, what I packed is irrelevant. If I hadn’t sent those things along, he would have known how to take care of those needs without hesitation. But he knows I’ve got his back and if there are ways that I can make things just a touch easier, why wouldn’t I? He works hard. He studies hard. He takes life seriously; sometimes more so than I’d want for him and I often struggle with wondering if my influence made him that way. Again, not the conversation du jour but I think many parents look back and wonder where they could have done better. The matter at hand is that he does not expect these things nor does he take them for granted or roll his eyes as I stumble through the door with a few more bags of nice-to-haves. He is grateful and understands that my acts of service are meant to ease the burden. They simply allowed him the brain space to focus on his own preparations, physically, emotionally, and otherwise before he takes off down the highway in his beater of a car to his run-down bungalow a few hours away.

Maslow’s hierarchy of needs does have one level of development that I cannot provide for: self-actualization. I can only encourage it. This is where my son steps up to create his own life map, understand his own ambitions, establish his own path, gain confidence in his own potential, and carry out living in a way that is true to only him. Aside from those direct requests of me for advice or just someone to bounce his thoughts off of, I leave him to it. He knows he has no one to impress or prove himself to except himself. He knows that he has no responsibility for me (he’s a tad overprotective) and is only responsible for doing what’s right for himself. He knows that whatever path he chooses, he will be loved and supported without condition. He knows that his health and happiness are the only things I want for him and the rest, he must want for himself. He’s always been fiercely independent in every way, and I know that if my life were to end tomorrow, he would be well-equipped in most aspects to find his way in this world.

As the days have drawn closer, my anxiousness building, I’ve done a lot of grocery shopping. I find it interesting that food is my go-to; making sure he has enough sustenance to make it out there in the wild, on his own. He has been driving to the grocery store, shopping, cooking, and cleaning his own place for 3 years and still, my default is groceries. I embarrassingly wondered to myself if this was normal, if all the parents out there did the same thing. From my experience of moving him into his place year after year, I believe it was fairly common that most of the moms were doing the same thing. The dads brought the beer and the condoms; the moms brought the food. Ugh. I immediately feel squeamish and want to revisit gender roles and the dismantling of The Patriarchy but now just isn’t the time!

The more I thought about it, the more it occurred to me that for the first many years of one’s life, moms provide the nourishment. We become pregnant and immediately, our bodies start feeding this child for 40 solid weeks. We grow them entirely in our body from a tiny cluster of cells to the size of a watermelon. We pay attention to their needs and their patterns, and when they are hungry, the kick our ribs, hips, and stomachs indicating a need for further nourishment, and we meet that need. As soon as they’re born, the cord is cut and they are quickly once again hungry and crying to be nourished. For the next year, our (my) body becomes the literal food source, creating the food, while he emptied the reserve, over and over again for the next 400 days. Eventually, they rely on external sources for food but let’s face it; they know where their bread is buttered and after a couple of years of having that need immediately met, they’ve become wired to demand it and we mothers have become wired to supply it. Of course, there are always exceptions but very generally speaking, nourishing our children is natural, habitual, and an act of survival (and love). Today, he doesn’t need it, doesn’t expect it, doesn’t ask for it, and his survival is not at risk, to be clear. But there is something inherently comforting for me about knowing he’s taking a little bit of home with him and that tonight when he gets unpacked, introduces himself to a few new roommates, reacquaints with old ones, hooks up his computer, puts his clothes in the drawers, his supplies in his closet, and settles into his space, he’ll pull that homemade banana bread from his box of groceries and feel just a little more comfortable and at home.

Now my journey also begins again; backing away and leaving him to chart his course. Having him home in the summer is always wonderful, and even though I rarely see him, knowing he’s nearby just feels good. Again, it’s my natural urge to ensure he is safe. Every time I visit my father, as I leave to drive away, he says, “Text me and let me know when you get home.” Every time I message my mum that I’m going out hiking, she says, “Okay love. Are you going alone? Does your sister know where you’ll be?” I’m 50 years old and they’re in their 70s and the instinct to ensure my safety is still well intact. Caring is normal and a touch of worry and protectiveness is natural. They know I’ve got my own back, just like I know my son has his, but becoming a parent is a lifetime commitment and the desire to love and protect may change in the mode of delivery but it never truly ceases. We are not all so fortunate so as I write this, I do so with compassion for those who may not be as blessed. My son will call me today to let me know he arrived safely. He’ll text goodnight and will probably text again tomorrow. But as time passes, the time between our communication will broaden. He’ll continue that journey toward self-actualization and I will continue to honour, support, and celebrate his independence.

For now, I’ll shed a few tears and reflect on the privilege of watching him evolve and navigate life on his own terms. After that, I will think of all the money I will save on groceries and beer, revel in the fact that I can walk around my house naked again and enjoy the freedoms and frivolities that come with empty nesting!

❤