Deliberate Parenting
Gregory K. Moffatt, Ph.D.
This month our family joined the thousands of families across the nation who sent children off to college. Just as everyone else has experienced, it seems like only yesterday that I was walking around the house with a tiny baby in my arms wondering what her life would be like in 20 years. Now I know. She is a lovely, brilliant, and dynamic young woman with infinite possibilities for her future.
Megan is my oldest child - the first I sent off to college. My friends have ribbed me about dropping her off at the dormitory. "Did you cry all the way home?" they teased. Maybe I should be sad, but in all honesty I'm not. Instead, I'm proud and excited for her. She has become everything I hoped for and I know she is ready for this new stage of life. I know she can't stay home forever and I'm ready for her to be on her own.
My biggest problem is resisting the urge to call her every two hours to see how she is doing, but only because I'm interested. How are classes? Did you get your books? Are you getting along well with your roommates? I have a thousand questions, but I don't want to pester her.
The purpose of my stories here is more than just to tell you about my experience. For more than a dozen years I have written to you about parenting, relationships with children, and how to prepare them for their adult lives. In fact, over the years Megan has shown up many times in my articles. I believed in what I have told you and I have practiced what I have written.
More than a decade ago I wrote a column about regret. What will we regret when we look back on our children's lives? I never want to regret anything and I have always kept that thought in front of me as I've made decisions about work, play, and my family.
Now that this point of transition has come about, I can honestly say I have no regrets. I have done my best and my daughter is ready to move on to the next phase of life. Sure I miss her, but more than anything I'm so proud of what she has become and I know that I'm part of that. I smile when I think of all those days I rode bikes with her, ate lunch together at school, sat through her concerts and recitals, ate family suppers together, and held her as she told me about her hurts and fears. My time has been well spent and I know I've done my job well. Letting her go is what I've worked for these past eighteen years.
I know the parenting job isn't yet finished. There will be tough times during college, future relationships, marriage, grandchildren and a whole host of other experiences, but August 16, the day I helped her move into her dormitory, marked the day she left home. Things will never be the same and that's OK. My wife and I have worked for many years for this day. I'm not sad.
Being a psychologist brings skepticism from observers. I can't tell you how many times over the years people have asked my wife, "Does he really do the things he teaches?" and how many times nay-sayers have said, "Let's see if he still believes that when his kids get older." I tell you this to encourage you. I do believe what I write and I practice it. The end of this phase of parenting is exciting for me because I know I've done my best. When you get to this point in the lives of your children, you can say that too if you choose it.
I have many colleagues where I work at Atlanta Christian College and I have watched most of their children grow up. I would be proud for my children to grow up to be like any of those young people. This is more than chance. They were all good parents and I know that deliberate parenting makes a difference. I am grateful for the example set by my colleagues and, even more, I'm proud of my little princess.