This working mom has something in common with Madonna and Michael Jackson. What is it about milestone birthdays? One year shouldn’t make such a difference, yet somehow the process of turning 50 seems to require reflection, contemplation, and lots of chocolate. 

Our generation was the first to attempt juggling a full-time career with full-time parenting. We were the pioneers, and the guinea pigs. There was no road map, no instruction manual, no guidebook for us that described what to do and what not to do. There was no tribal elder to pass down the accumulated wisdom on how to manage work and home without losing your sanity.

Now that I am an official Tribal Elder, that is, one who has turned 50, I choose to share all my accumulated wisdom, in the hopes that some working mother somewhere doesn’t have to re-invent the wheel.

What I Learned Early On

I learned that a child can go to school in her bathing suit bottom in the middle of February because she has no clean underwear and not require years of psychotherapy. I learned that you can send a child off to school every day for the entire second grade with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich on whole wheat bread, two cookies, and an apple, in a smelly Ninja Turtle lunch box, and he will not succumb to malnutrition or meningitis.

The teacher will not think you are a terrible mother; she will know that he has absolutely refused to eat anything except precisely that or that you were up until three in the morning sewing the most adorable Halloween costume the world has ever seen and forgot to put her underwear in the dryer. The teacher will know this because she is also struggling to manage a career and raise children and has a child who will only eat baloney and cheese, and also needs a Halloween costume.

I learned that dog bones do not work well in the VCR, frogs do not like the washing machine, seventh grade girls cannot, by law, wear anything to school picked out by their mothers, and twelfth grade boys will die if they are seen driving to school in their grandma’s Buick.

I learned that organized sports for children are not necessarily organized, trigonometry might as well be written in Chinese, and that neither my mother nor my mother-in-law could relate to the concept of microwaving a child’s dinner instead of cooking it on a stove even though all of my co-workers could.

Somewhere along the line, I learned that I will not wish on my death bed that I had vacuumed the rug just one more time. I will not be required to explain to God why my seven-year old son was in the Emergency Room three times in one month and I will not have to justify to Saint Peter my refusal to spend $600 on a prom dress—for the eighth grade prom.

I discovered the First Rule of Pediatric First Aid: anything that yells that loud can’t be hurt that bad. And the Second Rule: tongues, lips, and scalps bleed. A lot. There is also no such thing as death by runny nose, tummy ache, or mosquito bite. And Tylenol stains do not come out of clothing, the carpet, or the ceiling.

I learned that I am a smart, resourceful, competent, and thrifty woman. I have excellent communication and crisis management skills, and can function independently without supervision. (It says so on my resume.) I can understand the complexities of budgeting and investing, successfully negotiate the purchase of a used car, and use a Phillips-head screwdriver to assemble furniture purchased at Wal-Mart, all without input or assistance from a man.

What I Should Have Learned Early On

I should have learned the power of the word “no” and used it more often. I definitely should have said no after the first cat…and the second dog. I should have learned sooner that one cannot go for weeks and months with only five hours of sleep. I should have taken auto shop in junior high instead of home economics; I never needed to sew another apron, probably could have used Elmer’s glue for those Halloween costumes, but a working knowledge of how cars work—and how they break—would have been very helpful.

I should have found other mothers my own age sooner, and confided in them. It would have been wiser to volunteer for fewer committees at work and at church. It would have saved us all much time and trouble had I been firmer about self-sufficiency before my children reached puberty. Even a four-year old can learn to sort his own socks, and a six-year old can take the silverware out of the dishwasher and put it in the drawer; it just takes them longer.

Things I Should Have Done

I should have spent less time worrying about what the other mothers, teachers, and my parents thought, and spent more time thinking about what I thought. I should have taken more time off for myself instead of using all my time off to be with my children. I should have found more time for my husband and me to be a couple instead of just parents. I should have started investing in my employer’s retirement fund earlier. Rather than planning a (costly) family night out, we could have stayed in, popped popcorn, played Monopoly, had more fun, and spent less money.

I should have worked less extra shifts at work when others called in sick, and eaten more fruits and vegetables. I should have quit smoking before my kids were born instead of waiting until they were in elementary school. (Both of my grown children now smoke cigarettes and I know this is all my fault.) I should have resolved my ambivalence toward my own parents and the way they parented much sooner than I did; they did the best they could with what they had. Which leads me to…

What Surviving Parenting Taught Me

I did the best I could with what I had. In spite of all my hopes, fears, doubts, guilt, mistakes, and sleepless nights, we all survived. Neither of my children walked down the aisle to receive their high school diplomas still wearing diapers or sucking a pacifier. A phone was not attached permanently to their ears, they stood up straight, they were able to find all of their shoes in time for the ceremony, and their family members actually recognized who they were.

I discovered that the things that are most important to me—recognition of the miracles all around us and appreciation for these gifts; the need do the best job you can as often as you can; a respect for the dignity of others even when they look, think, or act differently than you; kindness to those less fortunate; less emphasis on acquiring material things and more emphasis on caring about others; and laughter, lots and lots of laughter—are now important to my adult children, too. I’m still not sure how this happened, but I am so grateful that I was part of the process.

I found out that listening, really listening without judgment or criticism, to their hopes, fears, doubts, guilt, mistakes, even through sleepless nights was the most treasured gift I could give them. It was more important than the braces, summer camp, music lessons, or Christmas presents. It was more important than insisting that they make their beds, wash behind their ears, wear their bicycle helmets, or zip up their coats in the winter.

Sharing their lives, and sharing my life with them, turned out to be the thing that made the difference. I was allowed to be part of their failures as well as their triumphs, their misdeeds as well as their accomplishments, and their dreams as well as their nightmares.

Finding out that I couldn’t guarantee the "A", the prize, or the spot on the team, or shield them from the pain of not winning it, was humbling. Sending them out the door each morning, understanding that I couldn’t really protect them, hoping I had given them enough tools in their survival kit, praying they would return each evening relatively unharmed, was the most terrifying and courageous thing I that I have ever done, and I did it every single day. I am astounded, in hindsight, at my tenacity and stamina.

There were days I didn’t think I would survive. There were days I didn’t think my kids would survive. But we all survived, and more importantly, thrived.

You all will, too, and someday, you will find yourself in the position of Tribal Elder at 50. Just think of all the accumulated wisdom you will have to share.

Cheri MacLean graduated from nursing school in 1979, B.C; Before Computer, Before Cat Scan. She has a master's degree in mental health counseling and is the mother of two grown children, currently lives in Raleigh, NC.