Manning Up My Sons

“Youth nationwide who live with their parents typically don’t become self-sufficient until age 26 — and their parents on average contribute $44,000 after they turn 18 in rent, utilities, food, medical care, college tuition, transportation and other necessities to help them get there, according to the report.”

Granted there’s no way I could contribute $44,000 to 39 of my children but I am learning that I have to be there financially, emotionally and physically for my children way after age 18.

And for adopted children, children who were adopted when they were older and were thus gypped out of their formative years, the emotional maturity is way slower to appear.

The developmental milestones not only were not met at appropriate times in their lives, the kids are also carrying around the physical and emotional scars of abuse and neglect.

The older I become, and the older my kids get, the more I’m convinced of this. The quote above is from an article sent by a reader and it is bleak. I believe the bleakness is necessary for us adoptive parents to absorb, if anything it shines a light into our future with our adopted children.

Yesterday the baby, of a sibling group I adopted 15 years ago, left for basic training. He was 6 when he joined our family and after a year of acting out, peeing everywhere and stealing grocery money because he wanted to be sure he’d eat, a logical survival skill, he became a star student, a very good kid. He’s now a 21 year old man.

Two of my other sons joined the Navy five years ago and received wonderful educations in terms of discipline and “manning up.” I wouldn’t have expected at all, indeed I was blindsided when my third son joined up in the middle of college. I was initially terribly upset over it.

“Why do you think I’m too good to serve my country?” he’d asked me.

It wasn’t that at all, I didn’t want him to leave college even if it were only for that one semester for basic training. This guy’s going to come back, finish college, get paid for going while he serves one weekend a month, earn bonuses for recruiting others, and then be an officer. What’s not to like?

I also think, on some level, he is all the more determined than other young men around him, to make sure his future is solidified. He remembers little of his life in foster care, but he’s heard the stories from his older sister and brother. He knows it’s a cold, cruel world out there. He’s taking steps to build solid security in his own life. He’s also over-protective of his sister, of me, his nieces and nephews, cousins, and siblings. This opportunity opens a great many doors for him.

I’m getting past my sadness at temporarily saying good-bye to him and I’m, of course, now filled with pride. I’m acting like it was my idea all along. Proud that he didn’t re-create his chaotic past as older adopted children sometimes attempt to do. I’m proud that he’s initiated all sorts of back-up plans for his life. I’m proud that he has chosen several routes of self-discipline such as sports, school, church and the armed forces now.

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