The Roaring Twenties: A Time When Less Parenting Means More

Q. I always knew that motherhood would be my main priority, so I quit working when my first child was born and never regretted it at all. But I have failed miserably as a mother.

In the past year, each of my children -- now in their early 20s -- has faced a painful, challenging personal situation. Nothing extreme or even life-shattering happened to them -- just the normal ups and downs of a young person's life -- but the kind of stuff that you learn from and go on to do better the next time around.

Everything I've done in my role as a mother was geared to these moments, when I would be there for my children, give them perspective and let them know that they were loved and not alone. When my children have problems to face, however, they don't come to me or their father. They don't confide in us or seek our counsel. In fact, they specifically told me that they don't want to talk to me about their problems.

I have backed away and respected their privacy but I am left to wonder: What the heck am I here for? A maid could have cleaned the house and cooked their meals. A 12-year-old babysitter could have changed their diapers and made sure that they didn't play with fire. But the one thing that a mother can do is to be there for her children, to love them when they're down or in trouble, and to help them navigate through their problems. And that's the one thing my daughters don't want from me.

Is this a phase that children go through in their 20s? Will I ever have a role to play in their lives? Or am I just the woman who cooks the turkey on Thanksgiving and gets Mother's Day cards every May?

A.You're not a failure, not at all. Your daughters are simply learning to depend on themselves while you're still trying to hold them close.

The time has come to let your children go, which will be one of the hardest jobs you -- or any parent -- ever has. It is also one of the most necessary, for it will show your girls how much you respect their judgment, their abilities and their choices.

Although it will be hard to let them go, you've really been doing it for years. You were letting your babies go when you watched them struggle to reach a toy that you could have handed to them yourself; when you let your toddlers feed themselves, even though they rubbed spinach in their hair; and when you congratulated your 3-year-olds for dressing themselves so well, instead of telling them that they had put their shirts on inside out. Every time you let your children do a job that you could have done better or faster, you were showing them how much you respected their ability to learn and to improve.

You showed your respect again when you let your daughters do their own homework and settle their own playground problems in elementary school so they could learn to take care of themselves, and when you let them play sports, join the band and babysit in high school so they could learn to juggle their time.

Now you must show your respect again, but in a whole new way.

Your daughters may be children to you, but they are grown women now, facing what may be the most confusing, demanding decade of their lives. They were probably full of confidence when they left college, and hoping to work in a nice office with one window and possibly two, but they're facing reality now and are working, if they're lucky, in little cubicles overlooking the copy machine.

Moreover, your girls are probably beginning to realize how little they know about life and at a time when they must make decisions that could affect them for the next 50 years. Should one daughter work at a job she dislikes or move a thousand miles to take a better one? Should the other daughter stay in her dreary group house or move in with the guy who may -- or may not -- be The One?

These may not be extreme or life-shattering decisions, but they're still not easy for anyone to make, at any age.

One day your girls will want to talk to you again about their fears, their plans and their dreams, but only if you listen, nod thoughtfully and ask them how they're going to handle a particular problem, rather than tell them what to do or talk to them as if they were still children. It's time to pass the torch.

Questions? Send them to advice@margueritekelly.com or to Box 15310, Washington, D.C. 20003.