I’d like to stress something important in the adoption world. Parenting does not end at age 18. I am finding that parenting begins at age 18. For some reason, maybe because they’d all once been in foster care, where kids are put out, unprepared, at age 18 into the cold, cruel world, that they alternately cling and push me away during their early young adult years. Lanette blogged about the issues, the insecurity and the near impossibility of foster care.

Age 18 is a phenomenally rocky year in our household, 17 is also very tough as the dread approaches. I’ve tried to avoid this, to reassure my children that I don’t stop being the mama, but words seem useless. They need action.

One son is now almost 21. He floundered all over the county after high school, he lost quite a few jobs for a variety of reasons, he’s a very hard worker but his many issues surfaced and he was fired several times.

He was in special education all his twelve years with me and overall he’s given me very few problems. He has two birth brothers and a sister in our family.

This is one child of mine who will cry in his frustration rather than rage. I call that emotional maturity, he knows he needs that release of his feelings and he chooses to react in a more positive, less destructive fashion.

He has also chosen to remain physically and emotionally very close to me. I have a double wide trailer on my property, an independent living facility so to speak, where they learn to pay their own meager bills, it’s just electricity, phone and cable, but it’s a start. My son lives there with an older sister, different kids of mine come and go, depending on their circumstances. There do seem to be a good many false starts into adulthood. I claim if they learn from their mistakes, then that’s progress.

Another son of mine, confronted him last year about several issues, telling him, “You need to leave all that crap behind, start making us proud of you,” and he has done so. Ten steps forward, an occasional step back. I do shudder to think of how his life would have been if he’d remained in foster care, his sib group then separated into three different foster homes. He has so needed, and has totally responded to having a mom in his life.

He eats all his meals with us and he helps me out tremendously. He chose a girlfriend, back in middle school; she’s older by a couple of years, rock solid, dependable, sweet and she’s tough on him. She’s a hard worker, a nursing student and she’s broken up with him at times when he’s been negative in life.

This son of mine works two jobs, takes on odd jobs, and has successfully dealt with the consequences of some previously poor choices.

He could not have functioned on his own after high school, to expect that of him would have been terribly unfair of me. He still needs me, yet he’s also learning to be independent, it’s just taken several years. I’m significantly proud of him.