Like many of you, I began this Fall with the mixed emotions of having my children move up yet another grade in school.  This Fall I have a 5th grader and an 8th grader…and let’s not forget the feisty 2½ year old.  This Fall marked some milestones in our home.  We have a teenager in the house.  Yep, my son turned thirteen.  One. Three.  (Gasp.)  And my oldest daughter is into her next decade at age 11.  At 5th and 8th grade, I am realizing how few years I have left with them at home.  To use a golfing phrase, I’m playing the back nine.

Think about it.  As parents we have 18 years of control (real or perceived) to shape our children into adults.  I am coming to the realization that the older my children get, the more they need me.  How did that happen?  Isn’t it the reverse?  I mean, many women rejoin the workforce after the front nine, right?  Older kids need you in a different way from their younger selves, but they need you nonetheless.  It’s not just the hours per night helping with Algebra.  But there are also the unspoken needs based on this newfound independence called growing up.  It’s the push and pull dynamic.  At the back nine, kids push you away and you (attempt to) pull them closer; eager to keep the threads of the relationship present and strong.  You hang onto their every word because they come so much more infrequently now.  The front nine was different.  Kids express their needs in a variety of manners and it’s fairly easy to figure it all out.  But this back nine…it’s a whole different story.

Anyone who has ever swung a golf club knows that golf is anything but an easy game.  So goes parenthood.  Successful golfers take an extremely detailed approach to the game. They walk the greens and roll multiple golf balls from different positions to see precisely how putts might break.  Successful golfers make every attempt to prepare for their game.  And as with any skill, practice is the best of all instructors.  Now let’s talk about my game.  I enjoy golf, but I am far from what anyone would label a successful golfer. Oftentimes, the back nine seems much more challenging for me.  I always warn my cart mate of this fact and lament over the problematic back nine.  Is it an endurance thing? You can certainly get fatigued by the back nine and fade down the stretch.  One of my favorite words of wisdom was the guy who told me that a drink or two on the back nine would help my game.  Other cart mates have told me that I need to pay close attention to my pace and rhythm throughout all 18 holes.  I guess it’s possible I lose focus knowing that I am past the midpoint of my round.

Another consideration, however, is merely the difficulty of the course at play.  Perhaps, the back nine really IS the more difficult half of the course.  Perhaps, the back nine really ARE the more challenging years on the parenting course.

Musings from the course:

• The back nine requires more focus and a steady pace.
• Be present.  Don’t get ahead of yourself.
• Passing the midpoint shouldn’t have you thinking about the end of the round, rather than focusing on each hole (year/day/moment) individually.
• Prevent fatigue.  Find tools and tactics that can help you recharge.  For me, that’s yoga.  (A drink now and then doesn’t hurt either.)
• Engage and practice.  If practice is the best of all instructors, parents are lucky to get plenty of it on a daily basis.
• Be forgiving and patient.  It’s my belief that parents deserve and receive an endless supply of mulligans.
• Parenting on the back nine requires the same tenderness, constancy, reverence and hope of the first nine.  It just may be the more challenging half of the course.

News flash:  I am a fairly competitive person.  I like to be the best I can be at whatever I do.  I am driven and self-motivated.  I am also a huge sports fan and I tend to like it when my team wins.   (Doesn’t everybody?)  I feel accomplished reaching goals.  I am a bit type A and I tend to overcommit myself to do more than I should.  But, amazingly, I feel pretty good about juggling it all.

How my competitive traits translate into motherhood has been interesting.  No, I’m not one of “those” parents yelling from the sideline or bad mouthing refs.  I’m actually fairly quiet on the sidelines.  But, I still like to win.  And on the sidelines, I might look just a little like Ally Raisman’s parents watching their daughter perform in the 2012 Olympics.  (If you haven’t seen that video, google it—hilarious!)  I’m also not a parent who is trying to live my life through my kids.  At all.  However, I have given my kids the opportunity to try anything that sparks an interest.

I understand my oldest child quite well.  He is driven and motivated.  Things comes fairly easy for him; one of those kids who is good at most everything he touches.  He likes to win but also gets motivated after a setback.  As a swimmer, he was obsessed with his times and combed through heat sheets to see where he was seeded and to discover who he needed to beat.  He stalked the results board to look at his official times and his emotions would follow those results.  He plays competitive basketball, baseball and club team soccer.  Try-outs are something he looks forward to and takes seriously.  Yep, I “get” that kid.  He is a classic motivated by the carrot kind of rabbit.

On the other hand, I am still discovering my 10 year old daughter.  She has always played sports.  Maybe because that’s just the way it is in our family.  But she has never had the drive and passion of my son as it relates to “winning”.  While she swims and plays basketball and soccer, she has also tried her hand at gymnastics, softball, ballet, tap, jazz, hip-hop, pottery classes, acting, improv, piano, and horseback riding.  I’m certain I’ve missed a thing or two.  I must admit, I have been a little obsessed with helping her find her “thing”.  It was so much easier with my son.

At swim meets, while I have pen and highlighter in hand, my daughter doesn’t even look at the heat sheet.  She doesn’t look at her times.  She doesn’t collect her ribbons at the end of the meet: “I’ll just pick them up in my folder next week, mom.”  And, she’s not really disappointed in a 6th place ribbon or no ribbon at all.  Don’t get me wrong, I’ve seen a fire in her belly periodically.  She has been motivated when someone gets in her space and she has the drive to win the ball on the field.  (She especially likes winning the ball from a boy; we call that “getting chicked”.)  I have also seen her disappointment and I have wiped her tears … in not making an A relay or a club soccer team.  But she has an amazing way of letting things go fairly quickly and getting back up with grace and confidence.  “I’ll just try out again next year, mom.”  Or, “Guess I’ll just have to crush it on the B relay.”  She moves on.  She has generosity of spirit and a gift for just being herself.  I am starting to “get” this girl.

Here’s what I’ve learned from my daughter in the past year.

• Rebound.  I am a believer that character is revealed more by how we get back up, than by how we fall down.
• Joy comes from living, not from winning.
• Life is nothing if it isn’t full of experiences.
• Kids find their own way. As a mom, I am doing my best to be present and connected.
• The student becomes the teacher.