The Joy is in the Journey

My daughter bought a car.

Like all-by-herself, saved-for-two-years, payed-all-the-taxes, doesn't-have-a-car-payment, hers-is-the-only-name-on-the-title bought a car.

It's the real deal. She's only seventeen, by the way. It's okay for you to be impressed, because I certainly am.

She got her driver's license this week, too. She actually took the driving test in her very own vehicle, so that's kinda cool. I went with her to the DMV because I love her and she was nervous and I enjoy smelling other people sweat on a Thursday afternoon.

When she arrived back from the driving test, she kind of made eye contact and sort of shrugged in my direction as she followed the administrator back to her desk. I could just make out the sound of her voice over the piped-in elevator music as she signed things and posed for her picture. I knew she had passed. I knew I was now the mother of another licensed driver.

She was ecstatic. I, however, felt a bit somber, but managed to muster some enthusiasm for her as she showed off the awkward license photo (Does anyone ever take a good photo for their license?) Then my husband and I sent her off in her new-to-her vehicle for her first solo run.

As we walked toward home from the DMV (one of the perks of small town living), I watched her stop at the first intersection stop sign. She glanced at us and waved before checking both directions for oncoming traffic. As she turned to check toward the right, I knew she was realizing that there was no one in the passenger seat. She was on her own, experiencing her first real taste of freedom, realizing that she is the master of her own destiny.

Watching her pull away from that intersection and drive away without me, something heavy hit me and hit me hard. It wasn't an incompetent student driver, either. It was a sudden realization.

All of my children are going to leave me.

I suppose I already knew this. They've been slowly leaving me since that first moment they were each laid in my arms. I knew, at least on some level, that they would all one day grow into adults (hopefully responsible and productive ones) and create their own lives, pursue their own dreams. I remember marveling at each of their newborn faces and wondering what kind of people they would be when they were grown.

So I knew they would grow up, but it always seemed so very distant, like a beacon pulsing far off in the distance, just barely visible beyond the strewn legos and scattered bath toys. I suppose I've been too busy wading through the everyday stuff, cooking dinner, folding laundry, paying bills, keeping them from killing each other, to look up and see just how rapidly that horizon was approaching.

It's been a rough summer. Child #1 left home in March. He's been in the care of the U.S. Army for the past three and half months, and we've had scant contact with him, only receiving a phone call about every third week. His absence has been felt in surprisingly tangible ways, always looming like it's own presence. His absence felt in his empty chair at the dinner table, the perpetually closed door to his bedroom, his missing opinion in every conversation.

And through these three months, with Child #1's departure to adulthood still so fresh, his sister has been working diligently on her own exit strategy, touring three college campuses, while Child #3 prepares to enter high school, already chatting it up about his future career plans.

I feel like I am coming undone. I have always been an incredibly goal-oriented individual. Put a target in front of me and I'm going toward it with laser-like focus. So, I'm surprised at my reactions to all of this growing up stuff. The goal has always been to raise adults, to get my children safely to adulthood, having them arrive ready to move forward with purpose and drive, capable of taking care of themselves and be productive members of society.

And here we are. I should be feeling all of those big giant feelings of accomplishment and achievement and triumph that come packaged together with a destination reached, a goal realized. It has been a long road. It's taken an awful lot of effort to get here. I should be thrilled.

I suppose I am thrilled and excited and proud. For them, at least.

But I'm left here missing them. Missing the legos and scattered bath toys. I'm missing the sleepless nights and having my arms full of babies. I'm already missing them and I'm missing me, missing the me that was "Mom" when that word meant to them the whole world.

It's true what they say about life and journeys and happiness. The joy really is in the journey, not the destination.

And it has been one tough journey, full of temper tantrums and tears, doubt and second guesses, mistakes and messes, heartache and hurt feelings, and "Are we there yet?" whining. So many times I wished for an end of some sort, or at least a brief reprieve, to the bickering and the stress and the energy-suck that was raising children. So many times I thought the journey was the hard part.

But let me tell you...this destination... well, it kinda sucks.

Why I Don't Want My Children To Just Be Happy

"I just want her to be happy. You know?"

I heard these words from a young mother in regards to her small daughter over the weekend, and they have been itching at my brain for days. They aren't uncommon words, I've heard them spoken by other parents of other children on other days. In fact, it is a pretty common sentiment, almost a modern parenting mantra. But something about those words just haven't felt right to me.

Surely, the highest goal, the pinnacle of parenting success, the mother of all attainment is that we produce happy people. We speak of it as if nothing else matters. Because if they achieve greatness and money and success but are miserably unhappy, it has all been for naught, right?

In that light, achieving a high level of happiness seems pretty important. But should it really be the ultimate goal?

Maybe we've placed happiness in the spotlight because we've found it so fleeting and difficult to achieve. A 2013 poll showed that two thirds of Americans are not "very happy". Antidepressants are the third most common prescription drug. And with the majority of Americans unhappy and dissatisfied with their jobs, the lack of happiness in the United States starts to look like a frightening epidemic.

Or maybe the placement of happiness on such a high pedestal is a reflection of the new culture of acceptance. Today's parents have seen friends cower in closets of sexuality because they were afraid of disappointing their parents. They've also watched adults while away their days miserably working a job they hate just because it pays well. And so we've decided to accept our children as they are and support them no matter their goals, because we want them to "just be happy".

But here's the deal... there is a whole lot more to life than just being happy.

By saying, "I just want my kids to be happy" without qualifying the statement, it insinuates that any choice is acceptable as long as it makes them happy. Does this mean that we are okay with our children choosing to live in our basement and smoke pot and play video games? ... as long as they are happy. Is it okay for them to drop out of school and work the rest of their lives as a cashier at McDonald's, getting people's orders wrong, and counting out incorrect change? ...as long as they are happy. What if the become big bank brokers or corrupt used car salesmen and cheat old ladies? ... as long as they are happy. What if they insist on ordering their steaks well done at nice restaurants? ... Surely we have to draw the line somewhere.

By telling our children that we "just want them to be happy", we are sending a message that is apt to develop little narcissists. It tells our children that there is nothing more important than their feelings, that their personal happiness is the ultimate pursuit. We've already sent them that message through our helicopter-style parenting, orbiting around them like planets around the sun. So telling them that our only desire for them in life is that they be happy reinforces the notion that they are all that matters. Screw other people and their feelings. Screw higher causes and deeper meaning. Screw doing anything challenging or difficult. And while we're at it, let's just selfishly encourage them to consume senselessly while using other people to get what they want.

Happiness is such a fleeting thing and it is all too often confused with pleasure. The pleasure of eating a cupcake or buying a new blouse or engaging in casual sex may seem like they bring happiness at the time, but those things, while surely pleasurable, can leave us feeling unfulfilled. Happiness isn't something you can consume or buy or sleep with. But because pleasure feels so much like happiness, we often find ourselves grasping and reaching for the next pleasurable experience because we think that's what it takes to make us happy. And since happiness is all we want for our children, it could leave them grasping at brief moments of gratification, never accomplishing anything and never achieving any real and lasting happiness anyway.

And there are far worse things our children could end up being than unhappy.

I don't want my  kids to just be happy.

I want my children to be productive and empathetic and gracious. I want them to be generous and hard-working and passionate. I want to raise people with purpose and character. The world needs more citizens who are honest and genuine and humble. I want them to give of themselves, to work hard for a worthwhile cause, to be part of lasting solutions to big problems, to be part of something bigger than themselves. I want them to strive to be better than they already are, to pursue goals that aren't easily achieved, and most of all I want them to be kind.

Interestingly enough, happiness seems to be a natural byproduct of those things. It's almost like when we stop looking for it, chasing it, desiring it, and focus on the really worthwhile things, happiness seems to find us. By focusing on others, while reaching for the things that are truly valuable, happiness just kind of happens.

So I hope that isn't all you really want for your kids, because if that's all you want for them, they'll likely never find it.

I Think I'll Just Be Happy Today

I woke up this morning thinking about all of the things I wanted to accomplish today.  After yesterday's mostly unproductive "snow day", it seemed like today should be a day of dynamic productivity.  I even made a list to help keep me on track.  (I mean REALLY on track since the list includes things like: "Drink 8 glasses of water."  and "Change your socks" but also bigger nastier things like "Clean out the refrigerator!"  *shudder*)

Then my cousin shared this picture on the interwebs:

Which made me think, "That seems like way more fun than drinking water and cleaning out the refrigerator!"

And while it is absolutely true that I can be happy in the midst of identifying mold-covered leftovers and searching for semi-matching socks, it might be a little harder, but doable.  Although "wasting time" doing things that tend make me feel happy, like reading books and taking naps and NOT cleaning out the fridge leave me feeling sluggish and guilty in ways that are not very happiness conducive.

It's very easy for me to think that once a arrive at the end of my rather lengthy to-do list, then and only then will I be happy...or have the time to seek happiness.  As a younger me I couldn't wait to get through high school, and then rush through college, and then get out into the real world, and then have children, and then buy a house, and then make a difference, and then feel like my life mattered, and then, and then, and then...  

But life isn't a race to the next big accomplishment (or little insignificant accomplishment like the 8 glasses of water on my to-do list).  Often we are so focused on the getting there, on keeping our eyes on the prize no matter what the prize may be (graduation or retirement or clean fridge) that we miss the little things along the way.  In keeping our eyes focused on what is ahead, we forget to look down at the flowers or up at the clouds or just noticing the things and people around us, maybe hiding just off the trail.  We can't always be running from our past and racing toward our future.  We can't put off happiness and personal fulfillment until we accomplish all of the things on our lifetime to-do list...because if we continue to wait, we'll just find ourselves adding to the list anyway.

This present moment is all we really have.  The past is gone, and we don't know how numbered the minutes and hours of our future might be.  If we want to be happy, we must learn to create our happiness right now, even if it must be in the midst of two week-old leftovers, mismatched socks, and plentiful trips to the bathroom to relieve yourself of your excess hydration.

Because when it comes right down to it...happiness is a choice.  So I think I'll just be happy today.