I was not one of those people. You know, those girls that have their children's names picked out. The truth is, I never really imagined raising kids. Just last week, Tate was asking me questions about our lives before he arrived. Most of his questions would fall in the "typical" category. That is, until he asked, "Did you and daddy plan for me?" I'm still not sure what the appropriate answer to the question is, but I'm sure "Hey kid, you were a complete accident," is wildly out of appropriateness. So, I pulled something out of Paulette's playbook and mumbled about the Lord always having a plan before quickly changing the subject.
Now, before you call the Department of Children's Services on me, you should know that I 100% love being a mother. However, I would be lying to you (and to my 10 year old son), if I pretended it was something I orchestrated. Looking back now, I'm certain I felt inadequate to do the job. I felt like there were more promising potential parents out there with far more skills than I. I envisioned completely wrecking someone's life and hearing about it for the rest of mine.
One would think I was prepared. After all, I had Monster #1 and Monster #2 dragging me through their childhood. Those boys exposed me, their untrained caregiver, to any gross object or inappropriate action known to man. It was almost a hazing (or birth control) of sorts for anyone that imagined being a mother of boys. Within ten minutes, you not only knew how unprepared you were, but you also questioned your desire for kids EVER!!!
That being said, I have certainly embraced my parenting years. Each twist and turn is exciting and exhausting all at the same time. Most recently, raising a 10 year old boy has been interesting, to say the least.
The one thing I learned from babysitting my brothers, is that boys are wildly unpredictable and non-communicative. Earlier this month, my son left us for two weeks to stay with my brother and his wife for basketball camp. This has become a yearly tradition, and while, its an awful way for this mama to start the summer, it is something my brother and son absolutely cherish.
I love a lot of things about kids ages 7-12. In fact, my preferred grade to teach was 5th or 6th grade. They are awkward and interesting and extremely inquisitive. It is the perfect formative age. There is one item that baffles me. Hygiene. I can say this without embarrassing either of my children. I have never met a child at this age that smells better than they think they do. Yes, read that again. Its as if their noses stop working.
You can imagine my anxiety, as I prepared to send my son to camp, knowing that he would probably not entertain an idea to change clothing or wash regularly. As he climbed into my brother's car, I reminded him of our acronym. "Don't forget to EAT!!" I said. My son giggled knowing I was talking about cleaning his Ears, Armpits, and Teeth.
He had a great time at camp. I beamed with pride the afternoon Rusty called me to tell me that Tate had just come in from shooting free throws as a result of missing the last one at camp that day.
It was a quick reminder that I didn't need to be there to tell him what to do. He was built with good stuff and no longer needed his mama to guide his every decision.
I remember when my kids were younger, a friend of mine asked me, "Doesn't it bother you that your kids don't miss you when they're away from you?" It didn't take me long to answer. My view of parenting is to prepare my kids so they are absolutely ok without me. I want them to be confident and secure in themselves. The act of being missed is not the measure of their love for me. My life was enriched by relationships with my grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins. I love that my kids are experiencing that same kind of love.
We would FaceTime each night. The words were few but the smile was great. He was absolutely having the time of his life. I had snuck a care package in his bag with a note for each day and some snacks.
In typical 10-year-old boy fashion, he seemed less than impressed. Every night I would ask him if he liked his note. I got the same response. A shrug followed by "Yeah." That all changed one night, during our FaceTime, when he leaned forward, kissed the screen, and whispered, "I miss your guts too." I felt like that giddy girl that was just asked out on her first date.
I'm not sure that anything could prepare me for a love like this. I'm just thankful the Lord took a chance on me with my pitiful parenting potential and gave us this precious boy to raise - smelly armpits and all.
~ao
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