What is playing on the iPod? Knockin' on Heaven's Door - Guns N Roses
I wrote this on Sunday night while feeling a bit emotional at the very thought of my first born turning into a teenager. We have been butting heads quite a bit lately and I sat and thought a bit about the evolution of my child. From the day in the car when he kicked me in perfect time with the beat of Hell by Squirrel Nut Zippers, to watching him walk away from me into his kindergarten classroom, to watching him use his Christmas money to buy cologne, to listening to his voice deepen, the evolution is coming a hell of a lot quicker than I am comfortable with. Still, I have no choice and if I did, I would not dare hamper him. One day, I want him to be able to smile on the experience of growing up with me as a mother and be thankful for the tough love, smile at the laughs and be thankful for the values. I can only hope I am laying the foundation for him to be able to do all of those things. So, without further wait, here is my note about my first born, Carson.
Sunday, January 24, 2010 and I am enjoying the last three days of not being the mother of a teenager. I get to pretend that I am still the mother of that little baby that caused me to talk more to God in five months than I did for the ten years prior to becoming pregnant. I am going to still be the person on the gurney looking into the eyes of that precious new infant as he was being handed off to Dr. McConville while Paul and I checked nervously for any signs of Down's syndrome that had both of us scared witless for five months.
For a few moments sitting in this chair, laptop on lap (duh), I get to pretend that my oldest son is in his crib, clutching his blanket, in fetal position with his little blonde curls mopped on his head. I will pretend his biggest concern will be whether or not I put juice or milk in his sippy cup and whether he will be spoon fed oatmeal or given Cheerios in his high chair.
For the last three days of his preteen life, I get to pretend that I still have my hands on my belly, begging God to let him be healthy and begging him to be tolerant with me as I learn to be his mother and he learns to deal with the world he will soon be thrust into.
For these last 75 or so hours, I can pretend that his biggest booboo will be when he is trying to learn to walk or trying to ride his bike without training wheels, not at the hands of some girl who will hold his self esteem in her unwitting hands.
I can pretend all day long, but at the end of the day, my son will be a teenager Thursday and there is not one damned thing I can do to keep him from growing up and getting hurt.
In the last two weeks, we have found out that Carson is dyslexic. In addition, I have discovered that my son was bullied at East Lee last year. As a mother, NOT pulling into that parking lot and announcing to the entire seventh grade body that they are a bunch of mean assed bullies who need to reconsider the destructive consequences of their actions, or worse, calling the parents and letting them know the effects of their children's callousness is very tempting, but I know I would just be acting out on my frustrations and not doing Carson any good. It was not the entire 7th grade after all and there are some really cool 7th graders, the parents of whom are among my friends. Carson still has friends at East. But now, I have to come to terms that the days of being able to protect my child from everything ended the day I had the c-section almost 13 years ago.
I can not protect him. I can only hope that the foundations that have been established for him are enough to guide him and protect him from rash decisions. I can hope that the friendships he has made are the kind like I have with friends that will be with him for years after graduation. I can pray that he has the love of God with him all days and that the foundations we have given him are not only established in principle but grounded in faith.
There is a saying I found a couple of years ago that I have been thinking about a lot lately. The two most important things you can give your child are roots and wings. The wings are showing themselves lately, much to my dismay. When we brought Carson home, I wanted him to be able to sleep through the night, to be able to hold his bottle, to be able to talk to tell me what he wanted, to be able to walk and now, I have all of that and more. My son is almost a teenager and in five short years, he will be a legal adult. In five short years, I am going to have to trust that those wings are strong enough to maintain whatever flight he chooses and the roots are deep enough that the wings will lead him back home whenever he needs it.
Most of all, I have to convince myself that I can do all of this. There is a part of me that is excited to see what his future holds, but there is an even bigger part of me that wants my little one back. I don't want to let him go yet and that time is getting here quicker than I am comfortable with.
So, what I will do is thank God for the amazing opportunity to be the mother of this precious creature. For all the back talking, eye rolling, etc., etc., that he does, he also gives me the biggest smiles I have ever known. I just finished my second book (woohoo) and nothing that I will ever accomplish professionally touches what the 13 years of being Carson's mother has done. Granted, I will, no doubt, be consulting a stylist for a color consult before long (and why I have not had to do that yet is beyond me) because the child WILL be giving me grays soon.
And, if all else fails, I will give him the mother's curse. Everyone say it with me...
May God give you one just like you.
No doubt, I will do that. But I will also hug him and be thankful for every single second I have with him.
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