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Sometimes you don’t know you’re sinking until your feet
scrape on the bottom…and sometimes finding the inspiration to keep swimming comes
in a way that you least expect it, leaving you wondering why you ever doubted
your capability.
Today’s Sunday Squirrel is dedicated to my oldest son, Alex,
and a simple act of kindness…an unexpected gift he shared with me today.
I have admittedly been feeling a little drained by the
winter blues, a hectic schedule, and juggling work and kids … school and
house. Life has been kicking my ass and
my usual tenacity and grit has not risen to the occasion as quickly as I would have
liked it to. I haven’t been feeling like
Wonder Woman, Super Girl…or even Minnie Mouse.
Been channeling more of a Droopy or the original Wimpy (as in old school
Popeye cartoons).
If you’re following along with #followthedinopath, you know
that life has served me up a few changes recently. And my volleys back have, at times been inconsistent,
and at times fell flat and short of my intended goals. I like to spin the positive and look for
silver linings. But this rainstorm has
felt like a torrential downpour and I’ve struggled to find a ray of sunshine on
some of the darker days…but my faith is strong and I’m no quitter…and sometimes
all I need is a little bit of encouragement to recharge my soul and re-energize
my mind to refocus in a more positive direction.
The day started with a call from Alex, having blown a tire
and needing a ride back from the tire store.
I hadn’t seen him in a week or more and was glad to have an excuse to
spend some time with him. We all know we
are parents for life and at any moment’s notice, we are more than happy to drop
everything to help any of our kids out when they are in a jam.
This impromptu visit turned into a stop at Sam’s Club, and I
was able to pick up some of the heavier food staples like cases of bottled
water and protein shakes with the luxury of having a 6’ 4” tall son, who was
more than willing to carry it all in the house.
The afternoon continued, hanging out and catching up while
we waited for a call about his car. We
had a meaningful conversation about motivation and life lessons in raising
kids. For once, I was listening and not
lecturing…and while I may have felt a little overwhelmed, everything he said
had merit and made sense.
My parenting style has always been a combination of Soft
Santa, and respectful dialogue with independent and expressive children…with a
hint of laziness during my less stellar moments and days when I lack the energy
to embrace parenthood in a way that lets me look in the mirror and feel proud.
I am always ready to share learnings and enlighten others;
today I remained silent and listened to my grown-up son share feedback on my
parenting style. It started with
reminders not to let his little brothers spend too much time on video games or
the computer. And it was a painfully
long “shared learnings” from my grown son, who did less judging so much as encouraging
to push a little harder on them than I did on him as a kid. He stressed how hard it was to pull out of a
lethargic lifestyle of too much introspection and not enough outward and
external exploration.
Part of me wanted to defend myself, part of me wanted him to
just shut up, but mostly I just wanted to cry.
Because what he was saying wasn’t wrong, because I was a big part of
bringing him up and into adulthood…and because I discovered I could experience
pride and disappointment at the same time…pride in the man he has become and
disappointment in the mom I am on days when I don’t have the energy to be the
best mom I can be.
We parted in silence, with him going to get his car
back. He felt bad for having said so
much; I assured him I wasn’t angry and it was just enough. I drove home in silence, thinking about all
the stuff we ought to do right in life…if it would slow down long enough for us
to catch our breath and dig back in for the next round.
By the time I got back home, I was feeling a little
deflated…instead of going right inside to face the younger boys, I pulled down
a few more Christmas decorations from the yard (yeah, I know…apathy has been
contagious around this house lately).
Just as I was pulling the last candy cane out of the ground, I heard
Alex pull in the driveway…well, I heard the bass to his stereo and knew it was
him. He was rocking retro with Salt n
Peppa’s “Push it…push it…push it real good.”
I knew right away he was trying to make me laugh, doing a little
impromptu dance in his car.
I figured he’d stopped by to pick up his stuff from Sam’s
Club. What I didn’t expect was to walk
into the kitchen and see him rolling up his sleeves and begin tackling my sink
full of dishes. I also didn’t expect
this simple act to break a hard ass like me as tears immediately sprung to my
eyes, threatening to spill over and down my cheeks.
Being independent doesn’t mean I want to do everything on my
own all the time. And there are times
when I wish I could just dig in my heels and say “not the momma!” Today, Alex gave me the gift to do just that…for
one of the most mundane but tedious of daily rituals.
So if you wonder if your kids will ever do the dishes, grow
up and become responsible adults, I’d like to introduce you to my son, Alex…the
boy I raised into the man I met today.
It may not be on your timing, but I can guarantee it is worth the wait.
M
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