The Mom Secret that Needs Blabbed

To Be Honest moms need a heads up on what's around the corner

You’re probably thinking, “Why is Julie writing about moms after Mother’s Day?” Good point. For one, I never got to Substack because I was poolside in Ohio enjoying Mother’s Day. To have a weather day so absolutely perfect I’m swimming in Ohio mid-May? You have to grab that.

Also, I’m going to throw down some truth that isn’t pretty. When this secret entered my life, I was shocked and confused. Angry, too. Why did no one say anything before I was thrown into this? For that, I’m talking. And Mom, you deserved a nice Mother’s Day before I drop honesty on you.

This is what I learned through the years. As a Gen X mom, I found a lot of support that previous eras didn’t have. We talked about pregnancy hormones, doctor recs, delivery trauma, and more. There wasn’t a stone unturned as far as sharing our stories.

We encouraged each other through pacifier addiction, potty battles, toddler meltdowns, and pre-k grief. MOPS? That is Mothers of Preschoolers, saved my life. But that ministry ended when my last child finished kindergarten, I believe.

Still, the mom info train chugged forward. I didn’t feel alone with school issues, navigating our kids and their friendships, chores, or those older kid things. Same for high school, dating, driving, and first jobs.

Then that train came to a screeching halt.

Here’s the truth moms ahead of me held onto that I grieved, GRIEVED that no one bothered to prepare me with:

It gets harder.

I remember a mom telling me my son would not graduate in diapers. When he walked to get his diploma, that was my first thought. Not how proud I was, but dang, that mom was right. He’s not in diapers.

My mistake was thinking that was the hardest parenting season.

I thought for sure I matured when I realized how silly I was; the teen years are the hardest. Oh, and they are difficult even if you’re teen makes great choices.

But hear me in the back—-their young adult years just might break you.

The high school graduation to the first year post-high school felt like pioneer land. I had zero clue how challenging it would be. For them. For me. Trying to balance freedoms versus boundaries. Everything seems elevated. Their independence. The risks. Relationships. Academics. Job expectations. Not one thing felt easy or the same. The crazy part is with both kids they were still at home. It’s not like I had an empty nest. It was still completely different and I was blissfully unaware.

My first time around was traumatic for them and me. Everything they tried in their new world seemed to mentally slap them around. It took time to navigate academics. For years, they were spoon-fed and suddenly it’s on them to create deadlines. Once that was figured out, the sailing was better, but not smooth.

The second time was a bit easier, but still a gut-punch because I knew what was coming. I braced for impact, and it was wisdom. Because transition hit hard.

Why didn’t anyone say anything? There is the busy of it all that senior year and graduating. There are the emotions. Then the next thing comes, whether college or work, or whatever. It’s a new schedule, new fears for them, for you. You have to find your lane. Yet be encouraging. You have to let that safety net go knowing the ages between 18-23 are most likely the years with the most fun and biggest regrets.

That’s not a stat I read.

It’s one I experienced as a young adult, observed in others, and went through as a mom.

My pastor had a sermon about living with hands up, and God did one better when I lamented about how hard parenting is at the young adult stage. He said, “Hands off, hands up.”

Break me? I have felt shattered probably ten times living that gem out. But for that adult you raised, it’s the healthy way to approach the years. You can’t make their decisions or pay for everything or intervene when every part of you wants to take over.

I’ve cried harder over their broken situations than any of my own.

And not one mom prepared me for that.

So here I am.

And I get it, you hate that I blabbed. Because you thought the potty stage was the worst. Or the reality terrible twos have nothing on the horrendous threes. Oh, I remember.

But if I’m about living authentically in a fake world, moms, you deserve the truth.

Parenting young adults is stupid hard. Super rewarding. So emotional.

You deserve to know. Sadly, I can’t think of anything to prep beyond hands off, hands up. But at least you are not a pioneer trying to get a lay of the land. I can at least give you the visual of an old prospector, weary, craggled mom, hunched in a rocking chair. She doesn’t look like much, but wisdom lines her face. Experience resounds in the creak of her bones. She points the way where you can launch forward in this new season knowing you are not alone. Because I blabbed the mom secret about the young adult years. And for that, this old prospector is telling you, as hard as it is, now that you are armed with information, you will survive.

I’m cheering you on.