There are skills and experiences that come in quite handy by the time kids become teenagers (of course, there are other skills that come in handy with younger kids, but it’s fun being able to use some of your more grown-up survival skills by the time your kids hit the teens): my ability to use safety pins to adjust the fit of a formal dress, using clear finger-nail polish to stop a run in stockings or tights, using a dab of toothpaste to get wine and juice stains off the upper lip and other fabulous survival secrets give one a sense of accomplishment and brilliance when you’re able to pass them on to your own teenagers. You can’t help but feel as though you have created some sort of legacy.
This morning we had the huge pimple on the end of the nose crisis. I sprung into action–of course, with the sixteen/seventeen-year-old one has to wait to be invited and I’ve developed the tactful way of offering assistance without butting in (it takes practice). So, with the cover-up stick, foundation and loose powder I was able to work my artistry gleaned from years of experience with the unwanted monthly pimple. And, for a brief, rare, moment I was able to shine in all my fine motherly glory.
I certainly don’t get to step in and save the day with the regularity of my former, glory days. My teens definitely don’t believe that I can hang the moon and do and solve anything like they once used to–but in those rare instances when desperation overrides their insistence on complete independence, I’m still able to step in and share a little knowledge and wisdom (not to mention just the right dab of cover-up, foundation and face powder.) The trick for me, however, is to let myself slip back into the woodwork–take my moment in the sun to shine and then step back into the shadows–waiting to be summoned for the next emergency when only a mother’s efforts will do.