I'm the Bad Guy

The day my son left for his sophomore year of college I rented a van to help him move. Together we packed up remnants of our shared past: a painted chest of drawers I bought at a yard sale in Atlanta when I was 30, the green velvety sofa his father and I purchased for our first home, the bar stools I acquired for my kitchen island after our divorce. Along with two decades of parenting, we also loaded up a new memory foam mattress, Ikea desks, and some very heavy boxes containing a platform bed. There were dishes, pots and pans, clothing, and electronics, too. It all fit in the van — just barely. A few hours later, we arrived at the condo he'd share with two buddies, and we unloaded it all into his room. 

This is where my "white glove" services ended. 

I didn't carefully place the new mattress pad and sheet set on my son's new memory foam mattress. I didn't scrub his tub and hang up his shower curtain. I didn't help him put together the new bed frame or the Ikea desk. Because, in case you didn't know, my son is almost 20 years old and  ... I'm The Bad Guy.

While his roommates moms tidied drawers, tucked in bed covers, and put dishes in the cupboards, I stepped over his unpacked boxes and took my son to lunch. I spent our remaining time together talking to him like the almost-adult person that he is. We chatted about why he opted to take Chinese this semester and the challenges he faced with his online business. 

Before we parted that day, I told him how proud I was of him. I didn't leave him with a list of to-do's nor did I follow up with text messages about how he should turn down the thermostat to avoid running up the electric bill. Remember, in this story, I'm The Bad Guy. 

Three weeks later, he called to tell me that a fraternity brother ran into the front end of his car. After he assured me that no one was hurt, I listened with compassion, acknowledged that the fender bender sucked, and then reminded him that this is what insurance is for and that he had an app on his phone to make the claim. 

Later that day, the mother of the near-adult who ran into my son's car reached out and sent me all her insurance information. I calmly told her thank you — and then forwarded the information onto my near-adult son to manage. The next day, when my son asked me to call the insurance company to initiate the claim because he was "really busy," I said, "I know you can handle it." I wasn't being callous. I'm just The Bad Guy.

For those of you who don't know him, my near-adult son is smart enough to set up his own LLC, purchase and resell merchandise, and establish a lucrative online business. He's a pre-law major and quite adept at communicating. I was confident he could manage a call to the insurance company and following up on the claim so his beloved car could be repaired.

It's not easy to watch your child falter or have a bad day. But experts (including my therapist) assure me that it can actually be harmful to swoop in and right every boo-boo long after your kids are of an age where they can fend for themselves. 

Like many parents, I've struggled with my Bad Guy status, because where there's a Bad Guy, there's a Good Guy. If your spouse, ex-spouse, or co-parent is always perceived as the Good Guy, that makes your role as Bad Guy that much worse. 

When my son's father and I divorced, I soon found myself accepting The Bad Guy mantel. I insisted that our son complete his homework before he went out to play. I encouraged him to eat vegetables and home-cooked meals — even though he preferred Chic-Fil-A (who doesn't?!). I took him to the Buddhist Center so he could learn about spirituality. I made sure baths were taken nightly and bedtime rituals were kept. I also “grounded” him from using his phone when he broke the rules, and I lectured him about the importance of not waiting until the last minute to do his homework. Usually I wasn’t very skillful or particularly nice about how I reprimanded my child. Yep. I was The Bad-Guy.

Now that my "child" is almost 20, I have new reasons to keep my Bad Guy status.  

There's plenty of data that indicates "snowplowing" (as it is commonly known) your almost-adult child's every concern is detrimental to their wellbeing in the long run. And yet, in a 2019 poll by The New York Times and Morning Consult, 75 percent of parents of children ages 18 to 28 had made appointments for their adult children, like for doctor visits or haircuts, and had reminded them of deadlines for school. Eleven percent said they would contact their child’s employer if their child had an issue. Sixteen percent of those with children in college had texted or called them to wake them up so they didn’t sleep through a class or test. Eight percent had contacted a college professor or administrator about their child’s grades or a problem they were having.

Hovering and smothering keeps young adults from learning from their mistakes, which ultimately will helps them cope with life's ups and downs. There's some evidence that snowplowing can actually cause greater anxiety and distress in young adults because they lack the ability to handle basic conflicts, failures, and emotional challenges. 

So as hard as it is to be separated from my only child, I'm doubling down on my Bad Guy claim. I'm not a jerk. I am proudly The Bad Guy and I'm not ashamed to admit it. I'm a mom who tries her best not to hover and resolve all my almost grown-up son's problems. And sometimes I screw up and try to micromanage him — which is not nearly as pretty or effective as it sounds. 

When the opportunity arose for me to fall in love and travel with a wonderful man, I didn't agonize (too much) about the impact my physical absence might have on my son's life. If I'm The Bad Guy for moving forward with my life, for not sitting around an empty house waiting for my son to bring his dirty laundry home, then so be it!  Do I feel guilty and selfish that I'm not an old-fashioned mom who sacrifices everything for her child? Yes, at times. Do I also feel proud of my son for being independent, resilient, and determined even after life has handed him some crappy situations? Absolutely! 

It would be so easy for me to try to compensate for those circumstances, but try though I might, I will never be able to undo his wounds. The best I can do is love him without condition, be present for him when we're together, and hold him accountable for his actions. I do hope that one day he learns to make his own bed  and perhaps even eat a vegetable every now and then (but I'm not holding my breath about the latter), because, you know ... I'm the Bad Guy.