Today is May 17th, Mickey’s birthday. The house is decorated with crepe paper, the cake is in the oven (chocolate with chocolate frosting) and the gifts are on the mantel- all of the usual Kay family birthday tradition minus the balloons now that Lexie is afraid of them. The last time we had balloons in the house, Lexie literally ran away from home.

I normally don’t place much emphasis on a person’s age. I’ve never been one to hide my age when asked which, I think, is a bit unusual for a middle aged woman. Today, however, is different and Mickey’s age feels very significant to me. Today Mick is twenty-one years old, a newly anointed member of adult society. Every parent likely feels something special and meaningful when their oldest child turns twenty-one. It represents a milestone, a success story, a change in the parental job description. I have a lot of mixed emotions today.

Mick’s birthday is, I think, a good wake up call for me. I have been mothering Mickey for the last six months with an emotional and physical intensity that far exceeds anything I’ve done in the past. Perhaps I’ve been doing a bit too much in helping shield Mickey from any more pain and emotional angst than is absolutely unavoidable. Since the initial call from the hospital, I’ve been in “PROTECT MICKEY AT ALL COSTS!” mode. What do I do now that he is twenty-one? Just how dependent is Mickey on what I do for him? Am I doing too much- taking on the responsibility for making all of those damned phone calls to government agencies, scheduling doctor’s appointments, acting as his personal chauffeur when he could use public transportation? Am I doing too little for him- not enough time, encouragement, massages, empathy? I suppose that this questioning is nothing new for me. Probably most mothers question whether or not they are mothering (smothering) their children to the right degree.

Mick’s coming of age has me thinking about backing off a bit. Ever since Mickey arrived in this world by doing a little break dance across the slick delivery room table, I have devoted energy to meeting his needs. When Mickey was a toddler, a well- intentioned friend advised, “Never do something for your child that he can do himself or you will interfere with his development”. Although I didn’t agree with the “never” part of this advice it did wake me up to the fact that adorable little Mickey could, in fact, do many things beyond what I had been giving him credit for. When asked to do something that I thought might be too difficult, he rose to the occasion and proved me wrong.

Well, now the advice might be, “Never do something for your child who is in pain and in a wheelchair that he can do himself or you will interfere with his development.” Again, the “never” part is ridiculous in my mind. However, the fact of the matter is, I think that it is time for me to back off a little bit (maybe even a lot). Mickey is twenty-one amazing years old and this is my wake up call to quit trying to protect him so much from the huge challenges, hard work, anger, depression and discouragement that await him. I think that he probably needs to go there in order to have a chance at getting to a place in life of contentment and, dare I say, happiness. In trying to protect him, I’ve been trying to protect myself. When Mickey is in pain, I am in pain, when Mickey is sad, I am sad. So, I think that I need to let go of my misguided intentions and let my twenty-one year old magnificent child be the adult that he is. Not to worry, Mickey, I will still do your laundry………