My son writes thank you letters. His recipients include, but are not limited to, dogs & dead fish.
I never really knew what it would take to be a mom, nor the challenges it would throw my way. I was certainly prepared to get up early, stay up late, make meals, take him places and show him new things. However, I quickly realized I would need a very unique superpower; I would need to establish a strength to confront the expectation of an arbitrary and societal mom-norm. I would have to defeat my pre-destined perpetual spin of demanding my son know “how to be a good person” each and every day.
I don’t require my son to write a thank you note for every gift he receives, nor do I ask him to smile politely when he doesn’t discern the need. I let him guide me far more than I guide him. He will hate me in his teens just as much as any other teen despises his mom, but he will know I never asked him to do anything beyond his own decision-making. He will recognize that I never insisted on his discomfort for my personalized comfort gain or absorbed relief-high; he will know that he is full, flawed and human.
This all might be unpopular opinion, I suppose. So let’s add to that unattractive list:
- Hiking boots and dresses go together. the perfect fashion mash-up
- Solo-trips are essential. a once-per-year requirement
- Every song is a love song. a gift of interpretation
- Time doesn’t exist. an entirely different blog post
- Sundays are the antidote for exhaustion. 4-hour workouts are my norm
My son has never belonged to me. He is part of something far greater than I can define for either of us. My hope is that I invite him to learn a little more about himself each day and that I force myself out of his way so he can take action with his own thoughts and ideas.
I will listen when he is ready; I will help when he is willing.
It is quite-a-love-thing and likely, unpopular opinion.
