Last night, after a day of feeling overwhelmed by the blossoming testosterone in my home, I took a bath. Out of bubbles and scented salts, I made do with a fizzy thing my son found for me hidden in the medicine cabinet. With my new found relaxation, I managed to have two fabulous conversations with my sons before I fell asleep.
After a bit of coaxing, Julian talked with me about his future. He confessed that he has absolutely no idea what he wants to be when he grows up, but he is definitely going to college (one with a water polo program), and he is definitely interested in seeing other parts of the world (warm, beachy parts, preferably). We talked of friends and family members that have been to various colleges, traveled to different parts of the country and the world, and I encouraged him to ask these wonderful people tons of questions. The more knowledge you have, the better your choices and opportunities will be when the time comes. He seemed to understand that concept. I rattled off a list of people that he may want to talk to and I look forward to hearing his thoughts after these conversations.
I realize that both of my children have specific times when they are more talkative and apt to share things with me. When I join Julian in some sort of physical activity, like biking or tennis or playing at the beach, he opens up and spills a lot. For Brannen, however, it happens at the end of the day when I go to kiss him goodnight. Clearly, it's bed time, and I'm exhausted and ready to go to bed, but he wants to tell me everything at that moment. Fine.
As part of the process to help heal a recent pinched nerve, I have temporarily traded beds with Brannen for better sleep. After he tucked me in with his super soft blanket last night, he crawled in next to me and started talking. We talked about the past. He is every bit of a thirteen year old and the changes are going to take some adjusting to on both our parts. I recently commented to him that "I miss my daughter." He was totally offended. Last night, I told him a story of when he and his brother were toddlers and we regularly hung out with a group of friends. Two of us had two boys, the others had girls. I told him how chaotic and energetic the boys were and how the other moms didn't understand why we couldn't control our children. It was miserable. I was so thankful that at least one other mom, Julie, did understand. While the little girls would sit and look at a book or color quietly, we were busy gripping our children and shushing them. It was definitely not the most relaxing parenting phase. Brannen was one of the worst offenders - he was like a little bumble ball. Then he hit about nine or ten years old and as the battles with his older brother began, he became the Easiest Child Ever.
Brannen explained to me that he both loved and hated that. When he watched his brother and I battle, he was thankful it wasn't him. But he hated knowing that every time I asked for something, he would do it. And every time his brother would do one thing right, I would just be so happy and proud of that one thing. Brannen felt like he was doing everything right and he didn't understand why I wasn't jumping up and down with joy singing his praises all the time. I apologized and explained that it was so hard to balance what I said in front of him and his brother because all it did was fuel the sibling rivalry. I also told him that I was constantly bragging about him to friends and family. "You did?" Yes, kiddo. I did. You were my ray of sunshine.
Now we're in a different phase. Brannen assured me last night that this phase should only last a couple years before he's back to good. Each phase should last a couple of years, which would put the unpleasant phase beginning again at age 16. Um, no thank you. I told him to get it out of his system now. He will grow into his young adult self and use these times as learning and growing opportunities. It should only get better. (please be true. please be true. please be true.)
Fortunately, they're like a tag team, and they take turns. Thank the universe for striving to maintain balance.
Before our bed time conversation was over, Brannen suggested that we set up a camera and every day we record how the day went. That way we could look back and remember things that would have otherwise been forgotten. I thought that was a brilliant idea.
This blog is an attempt at just that. Blogging about important (and not so important) moments, so we have record of it. When I get more technologically savvy, perhaps I'll add some video moments.
When we first became friends on FB, I saw you had a blog page but didn't pursue. Not sure why I turned to read it tonight. Was a long day, early morning flight, meetings, inspiring a team that I lead technically, late flight home. I love this period in my professional career. And it is perhaps the hardest part of coming home after so much contact, so much building of people's careers, nudging younger people in the right direction - it feels empty to return to an empty house. I guess it's why I drank much more than I do now in my first year here - even if the contacts are superficial in a bar, it's at least something. Anyway, I digress. I was reminded of your blog arriving home and flopping on my bed.
ReplyDeleteIt brings sweet moistness to my eyes to read you here, five years ago. On each of the three times that we met, you had some criticism of yourself as a parent.
Parenting is tough, no matter what anyone says or no matter how easy people make it seem. What I appreciate in what you write here is that you acknowledge that struggle but don't give up. You tried to connect, you wanted to connect, even when it didn't work repeatedly.
Between my mother and I, it was when she was driving me somewhere that I would open up. But somewhere along the line, the communication was no longer possible. It happened when I was very young. I felt unloved - and there was some reality to that in the frugality of our upbringing and the fact that I was the first who was replaced by three younger brothers. But from that perspective, I resisted her attempts to know more about me. As a teenager, when my English teacher had the brilliant idea to ask me to write about myself since she saw my struggle with fiction, I wrote about my inner world and gave those writings to my mother, and though she was touched, she no longer knew how to reach me save for an awkward hug. I feel bad that this is what our relationship became and that the deep therapy that I did later was essentially coming to terms with that reality and forgiving that my parents did the best they could.
Some intuition, and you can contest this if you want but I feel it keenly from you, is that you were a really good mother, especially considering that you had to do this on your own. I feel it here in you writing.
I actually love these challenges of dealing with children. The moments that touch me the most when I am with my daughters is when I recognise a difficulty they are having and I find a way to reach their hearts and teach them. It's not easy, but when you are a parent, you are actually learning to be a leader, who sometimes has to take the path of tough love, but love all the same. And when you come from the right place, when you appreciate inside you that they are not against you but challenging you, then it moves in the right direction. But there is no doubt that exhaustion makes this task of being a parent so difficult.
Anyway, I loved this little piece of writing.