Getting to the "who cares" stage of parenting

J-son took me aside a few days ago.  With my husband overseas for a month or so, J-son is starting to feel more and more responsible for others in the house.  In his big-brotherly -- or possibly faux-fatherly -- way, he told me he was worried about N-son -- the way N-son eats so much junk food, the way he continues to have odor problems.  What's going to happen to him after high school? I said I was worried, too, and I described the various steps I've tried to take to help N-son help himself. And then I said, "but one thing I've learned is, you can't care more about a person's problems than he cares himself.  At some point, he's going to have to deal with this or live with this, and it's his choice."

In other words, at some point, both J-son and I have to back off, and let N-son eat and groom (or not) the way he chooses.  A hard lesson for us.  

It was only two days later that J-son lapsed again into difficulties of his own.  He's still spending all the money he comes into contact with, and occasionally starting to lift other people's money again.  Starting in October, his Social Security money runs out, which means that with no job he'll have no income and no money saved, not to mention expensive habits that he'll want to keep funding.  Speaking of those habits, he's been using the money to fund Extremely Unhealthy Purchases, which he lies to me about.  He says he wants to be a boxer, but then he doesn't actually go box, in spite of both his coach and me encouraging him to spend his days in the gym. 

This kid.  I reminded J-son about the conversation in which he told me he's worried about N-son, and I said that in a similar way I'm worried about him.  I said, I'm trying to help you, but I know that at some point I can't care more about this than you do.  You might end up living at our local rescue mission a year from now when you graduate high school and have to move out of the house, but that's going to be on you, because I'm trying to do what I can right now, but I can't do your half.  

This is a new tough stage of parenting.  There's part of me that's like the horse that smells the barn doors:  next year is their last year of high school and then I get to start the transition to having the kids all move out!  And I am almost counting down the days.  Is that awful?  I've been a parent for more than half my life now; I may or may not be ready to retire from my professional job, but I'm feeling darned antsy to retire from the primary parenting role.  I am Jonesing for those future days when the kids all come back once a week for dinner, and I dispense and advice and food and love . . . and then shoo them out the door back to their own homes again.  

At the same time, I want to make this last stretch as strong and successful as I can make it.  I feel like I keep walking the balance beam between steering these kids in the right direction and giving them enough rudder to steer themselves.  When do I take over and rescue them from their errors?  How much do I hover?  

And, of course, this question:  how do I care enough about the shape of their future lives without depriving them of the chance to care about it more than I do?