But where is the washing machine?

Or how I miserably failed at parenting

It was a very ordinary day. Another day when my children asked me once again, if I had done any washing and if by any chance I had washed their favorite sweater for probably the 3rd time that week.

Apparently wearing a piece of clothing more than once in a row is not something a teen does and I have to admit that as much as I want to pick the stuff out of their laundry basket and put it back in their closet, sometimes it is easier to ignore it and wash it again. That’s a terrible thing, I know. 

But anyway, here is my youngest asking where his beloved Def Leppard sweater is so I tell him it is in the dryer, and jokingly add “You know, that big thing, right next to the washing machine!”. And this is what he answered:

“But where is the washing machine?!” 

I give you a second to take that in. 

My child, my 14 years old child, who has been living in this house for over 6 years, who, most days goes to play video games in the basement, in the room right next to the laundry room, who sees me come downstairs say “hi” and disappear in the said room, doesn’t know where the washing machine is!! 

And suddenly I started questioning all my failures as a mother. No matter how much I feel I have tried, I have let the teens choose the easy way out and gave in too many times.

This simple yet, heavily loaded sentence forced me to draft a list of my shortcomings and there are many.

Why have I found it so hard to nurture their practical independence?

My first guess is probably because I am crap at delegating. I have definitely inherited it from my own mother “No one does it as well or as fast as I do, so let me get on with it”.

This obviously gave the boys the impression that they were better out of the way. Very convenient for them, right? But in all honesty, it was also convenient to me.

The problem for anyone who needs to feel in control to feel good, watching others do something, and doing a shit job at it, is painful and unbearable. So of course there is that voice at the back of my mind that tells me that I am not doing them a favor but I simply can’t help it. I want things done, done well and I don’t want to wait for someone else to do it.

So I have watched all the social media posts of parents smiling as they look at their cherubs pour flour outside the bowl, crack an egg dropping most of the shell in the mixture or smearing play dough all over the carpet. It equally made me die inside and feel guilty that I am not that parent.

And now I wonder if I have equipped them well enough to survive, let alone thrive in the real world? If they can’t even wash their own laundry, will they be able to cook themselves a meal? Will they be able to function without help?

So yes, I haven’t helped very much with developing their fine motor skills but we haven’t failed at everything thankfully. At least C and I have been incredible at teaching them something both of us value above all else.

We have taught them to have wonderful sense of humor, we have nurtured their sense of adventure, we have opened their eyes and mind to the power of knowledge, to the World and others, we have taught them to embrace and love difference and to practice kindness, tolerance and non judgement as much as possible.

And you know what, we have done a pretty good job at it without creating any kitchen mess, boom!

So at least when they require support of any sort, they will do so with good manners and respect, which in the end, is exactly what we have always wanted and treasured most anyway.

And maybe, subconsciously, the plan has always been to make myself indispensable? Anyway, I am going to end here, vowing to try harder even if it doesn’t mean I will actually do it…