after EVERYTHING...

Saving Face

"I don't have to live by YOUR values and YOUR beliefs, I'M 18 YEARS OLD!!"

I know.

I know you will choose your own path, and I will love you and accept you right where you are on your journey. But, in my house, even though you may choose your own belief system, you'll have to live...

By mine.

"FINE!! I'll move out!!"

That's not what I want, it breaks my heart, but you are 18 and it is your right and your choice.

I will respect your decision.

She packed up her laundry basket to overflowing,
and left.

"THANKS A LOT for destroying our relationship!!" on the way out the door.

If you're a parent of a teen - you know it was actually way worse, way more emotional, way more heated than that. But, because you're a parent of teen, I don't have to write a detailed account.

You already know.

I didn't sleep much that night.
or for the next 3 days.

Prayers.
Tears.
Guilt.
Advice from friends.
Second Guessing.

Then, "I'm going to come home", in a text message.

ok.

She came in the door with her over flowing laundry basket,
and went straight to her room.

A couple of hours later I knocked on her door...

"I'm really glad you came home, can I give you a hug?"

A small shrug with tears in her eyes.

I hugged her and she pointed to some pictures she wanted me to see of her and her boyfriend, I admired her pictures and her knew phone.

Again I hugged her and told her how happy I was she was home,
then went out.

Sometimes...
There's no need for lectures, or I told you so's, or admissions of right and wrong.

Sometimes...
It's best if everyone (including me) is allowed to save a little face.

Surprised By Joy

"I'm on the way home and I have some news for you." she said.

I wasn't sure what to think of that. What news? Good or bad?

She came in the door, half-smile, fluttery motions with her wrists and hands that she only makes when she's nervous, tears welling in her eyes, fast and stuttering she blurted out:

"I officially have a boyfriend."

I stepped forward, put my hands on her shoulders, pulled her close, hugged her tight, kissed her cheek and said "I'm so happy for you." I pushed her back, held her shoulders, looked straight into her eyes (tears now spilling on her cheeks) and said "You're happy. I am really and truly happy for you!"

She allowed her tears to fall freely. We hugged each other close. I whispered again,
"I'm happy!"

Odd scene?

Not if you, like me, have spent a lot of years parenting out of fear.

She was afraid. Afraid of my reaction. Afraid I would be disappointed, afraid I would be angry, afraid I would disapprove, afraid I would lecture and she would have to defend herself.

She was afraid, because I made her afraid.

I can never take back the things that I did, the words that I said, that made her afraid to share this milestone in her life with me. But, I can continuously, every day, in every circumstance in which she allows me, reinforce that I am not the mother I used to be.

I can give her a new message.

She has nothing to fear from me. I am on her side. I am for her.

It was never her. It wasn't her choices, it wasn't her mistakes, it wasn't her failures. It was always me, my fears, that caused me to say and do the things,

that made her afraid.

Thank God...today:

I can surprise her with my joy.

Aluminum Siding and Other Grand Dreams

Weekends and holidays are always hard for me.

Those are the times when it becomes apparent that, at 41,
I've never quite managed to end up with the life I thought I would have.

It helps that I maintain a job that often keeps me working
on weekends and holidays.

That way I can answer the endless "what are your plans for the..." questions,
with "I have to work."

It seems a good enough explanation for why
there are no big family get-togethers,
holiday parties,
cookouts.

When I was a little girl--I dreamed of aluminum siding.

Homes in well-maintained neighborhoods with aluminum siding, that looked only slightly different from all of the neighbor's homes.
Moms that drove car-pools, baked cookies, and were home-room parents.
Dads that wore suites and came home --
every night.

Homes where neighbors and families came together and
decorated trees, sang songs, drank mysterious concoctions out of sparking glasses,
played games in the backyard while the grill was heating up, and set off fireworks
late into the night.

Homes that were a stark contrast to our crumbling, shingle-sided, home on a dirt road.
A mom that worked full time and came home tired, angry, and withdrawn.
A dad that came home covered in construction dust--
when he remembered to come home.

It seems I've lived a good portion of my life,
trying to put together the pieces,
left over from the wreckage of that dream.

Because I really believed the dream,
was about aluminum siding.

I believed that what families looked like on the outside,
were what families were.

But, just last year, I heard a very wise man speak a profound truth:

"Children in our society are experience rich, but relationship poor."
~Dr. Bob Laurent

I've never been able to put together the family of my dreams.

The one that has two parents, family vacations,
and backyard barbecues on the 4th of July.
Those types of experiences, have continued to elude me.

But somehow, without being able to provide those experiences...

I believe my children know they are loved.
I believe they know they matter.
I believe they know that I will sacrifice, I will stretch, I will work,
to pour into our relationship.

Because our relationships matter.

It's a very awkward, fumbling thing.
Lacking all the pizazz of the mothers who have their act together and can
juggle car pools, bake sales, soccer practice, and beach outings.

The truth is, at 41 years old,
as a single mom, somewhat financially stable...not so much secure,
with hardly any social life to speak of, very little extended family,
and my kids almost grown,

I'm still learning what families are.

More Than I Could Ask For

I'm going and I don't care what you say! I'll walk out the door right now and you can't stop me!

The flag is thrown down.

You walk one foot off this property and I'll call the police!

I pick it up.

Go ahead, I don't give a F*#k!

I look him in the eyes. Stare him down.
His jaw is tight. Fist clenched. One hand gripping the handle.
He's ready to break it.

I drop my gaze.
Turn my head, only slightly, away & down.
Take a deep breath.
Soften my heart
and my voice.

I'm sorry. I don't want to do this. I know you want to go. I know you're angry. I know you're frustrated. I'm sorry.

I take a half step closer.
Lightly touch his arm, close to where he's gripping the handle.

I'm asking you to respect my rules. I'm asking you to treat me respectfully, even though you're angry. I'm asking you respect our home and not break anything in frustration.

It's all I can do. I'm just asking.

I'm angry and frustrated too. I'm going to treat you respectfully. I'm not going to threaten and challenge you.

He relaxes. Lets go of the door. Shrugs off my hand, and mumbles something, I probably don't want to hear, as he walks away.

I go in a little while later. Touch his shoulder.

I love you. Thank you for handling that so well. I know you were really angry and I'm proud of how you responded, even though you were angry.

I kiss the top of his head.

He shrugs me off.

I love you, good night.

Whatever.

That's ok. I'll take the whatever.

It's more than I could have asked for.

A Proud Mother

Are you proud of me mom?

Proud?

Who wouldn't be proud?

I've watched you take a very bad situation,
stemming from some really poor choices,
and work diligently to bring about the very best outcome.

I've watched you make real, solid, changes
in how you think about, and respond to,
people and stressful environments.

I can practically SEE the workings of your mind
as you struggle to control your frustration & fear
in order to express it appropriately.

(at times, better than me)

I observe you approaching tasks
that you would rather not do with a
positive frame of mind and attitude.

I watch you, in wonder.
I'm amazed at the steps you are taking,
and the person you are becoming.

There's something going on inside of you,
And I'll probably never get to know exactly what it is,
that shows through your actions, you are discovering...

You matter.
You're choices matter.
You're future matters.

I'm so grateful to be a part of your journey.

"Are you proud of me mom?"

What a crazy, unexpectedly wonderful, question!
And so easy to answer with a resounding YES!

Proud:
Feeling pleasure or satisfaction over something regarded as highly honorable; Showing a high opinion of one's dignity, importance or superiority; To be a source of pride or credit to a person.