Ditching

I am sitting at work today and receiving hourly text messages about my son's unexcused absences. Oops, he missed first period. Darn it, 2nd and 3rd he's nowhere to be found either! Truth be told, I stopped checking my phone, knowing that he wasn't running late. He was ditching.

In an unexpected turn of events, I gave him permission to ditch. My husband gave a very formal and clear commentary about his reservations, but ultimately agreed. Yes, son, you have our blessing to ignore the rules and go to the beach instead. The reason I caved so easily is simple. It's the end of the year and evidently instruction of any kind is no longer necessary. Our son has spent the last week watching movies in his classes. He finished his finals and brings a healthy pile of books to read, not Shakespeare or a literary classic, but World War Z or a David Sedaris collection.

When I was a kid...(can you just picture the eye rolling) we worked up until the last day, finishing off every possible workbook page, catching up on art activities or creative writing assignments. We did spend more time outside in recess and gym but I never once remember watching a movie, let alone in multiple classes. We set aside a part of each day in that last week to clean our classrooms. Monday might be the washing of all the desks, Tuesday return textbooks to storage, Wednesday thoroughly wash the boards and sweep the floor, Thursday remove all papers and projects from the classroom and take them home, Friday hang out and relax and see our teacher as a pretty nice person overall, while daydreaming about swimming and street carnivals. 

The last week of school, for me, was fun. We got to be more creative, more physical, and more interactive than we'd been allowed the whole rest of the year. We were excited for summer and for being done, and we were relieved to learn our subjects without a grade attached.  

Instead, my son's teachers are cleaning their classrooms by themselves. Since no more grades will be given there seems to be no need for learning.  Practicing what they've already learned and integrating it into their life when the standardized tests are completed, appears pointless. Why bother taking up frivolous pursuits like relay races, jam sessions, or fun trivia games?  Is it really possible that on a certain day in June, everything there is to know about creative writing, jazz, physics, or Spanish was mastered so fully that there was just nothing left to do?  Have we trained our kids to only want to learn if a grade, an assessment from outside of themselves is given? Yikes!  

When my son said he wanted to ditch his last day and go to the beach instead, I said "yes". For one, how could I not reward such an honest kid with such a great argument? Secondly, I figured a cardio workout on his bike coupled with an "in the field" exploration of the natural environs of the Great Lakes was more productive and educational. 

LOVE BOMB!

Prior to our first born son's birth my family hosted a baby shower for us. In the midst of  Goodnight Moon and hand crocheted blankets was a time capsule. The time capsule actually looked like one of those big, tin, popcorn containers. Inside was a memory book that you could fill out and document the music, history, fads, and prices of the day. The main accessory of the capsule was stationary.  The idea was that we would ask all of our friends and family to write letters to Levi, sharing their feelings about his birth and their hopes for his future.  We collected them all and then "sealed" it away for some future reveal. 

Love Bomb (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Yesterday was that future day. On his 16th birthday we unearthed the canister from the depths of my closet (more hidden and forgotten than any underground treasure chest) and presented it to him.  We cheated a little. Right before his birthday we invited others, who didn't know us or him at the time he was born, to also write letters. Friends for whom he now babysits, a third grade teacher, friends from our old church and neighbors all joined in and shared their wisdom, admiration, and love.  As the day came closer to present it to him, I started feeling like I was preparing a LOVE BOMB.

As he opened the container and saw the newspapers from the week he was born and the book of memories (gas cost a $1.39!) he was excited and curious. Then he picked up the pile of letters. It was thick. He was speechless. He picked up one from a neighbor, and then from a good family friend and then from the friends who he also serves as babysitter.  He saw that there were two letters from his great grandmothers, both now deceased.  It started sinking in. "Oh my gosh, this is the most awesome present ever!"

At 16 he's looking at colleges that will take him away from his home base. He's figuring out how to break away from us, his parents, on a daily basis. He's working out the parts of us he'll keep and the new ideas and experiences he wants to pursue. It felt like the perfect time to remind him of the deep pool of love that he comes from and that he can access.

I recommend  LOVE BOMBS for everyone. 

You're Hot!

English: YMCA logo (international and USA) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

My son started going to the gym.  He's never been super interested in sports unless you count marathon reading.  For the last month though he has taken his bike out every day.  For the last two weeks he's taken that bike to the YMCA and worked out every evening after school. On top of that he went through another growth spurt that left him with chiseled lines.  Any faint remnants of baby fat are stripped from his face, leaving a strong chin and dramatic cheekbones.

Every night he returns from the Y and talks me through his improvement. 5 pull ups, then 10, 12, today 20!  "I can do 30 minutes on the treadmill now!"  He has biceps all of the sudden and a two pack.  I am stunned at the quick progress and physical changes and yes, tremendously jealous.  Why doesn't my weight lifting produce such easy results?  Is there such thing as a negative metabolism rate? Anyway, my child, just weeks away from his 16th birthday, is looking more like a man.

The kicker.  He comes home yesterday after getting a haircut.  The thick sweep of hair was gone. In it's place was a near buzz cut with just enough extra on top to style and look a little daring. I couldn't help myself. I saw him and said, "You look hot! You're like a model."  I know that probably wasn't the best mom reaction but damn if it wasn't true.  All of the pieces are starting to fall into place.  The muscles and haircut are forcing the reality down my throat - my boy is growing up. I'm in awe that he is a part of me.  Every day he's looking and acting more like his own person, borderline foreign to me. I've always known that he was of course. Adolescence is just so intense (and not just for the teens). It's like seeing the color red in all it's beauty and then panning out and seeing that it's not a swatch of red but a full bouquet of roses. A gorgeous, cut, bouquet.

Time is Flying

When I first started writing here, I began by reflecting on this early memory of my son helping his dad.  I talked about how we have to create ways to engage our kids and let them act big and important.  It was such a super cute moment, little boy with his little brush, and one super ugly, blank canvass to attack.  Whatever strokes he laid down on that garage door were going to help and the only thing that could really go wrong could be fixed with soap and water.  I miss those days.

Lately, I realize that I am more and more hesitant to encourage that former two year old's independence.  I'm spending more time thinking about all the messes that might happen if my sons "pick up the brush".  Bullying, random violence, troubled or stressed out friends, and just garden variety school pressure occupy my thoughts.  And more and more, I feel like all I can really do is worry.  I've checked, and I'm not allowed to lock them up until it's safe outside.  More and more, I feel emotionally torn between keeping them from the world and losing them to the world.  Choosing to either stunt their self-confidence and autonomy or release them to the possibility of real dangers.  Have I mentioned that I miss the toddler years?

I want to protect them from the friends that are cutting, desperately wishing that the depths of human pain won't be witnessed quite so soon.  I want to shelter them from the gangbangers looking to fulfill their twisted initiation rite - physical violence to another person, any person, as they wait at the bus stop.  I want to teleport them to a time past high school where their own ideas for themselves can be realized instead of the forced constructs of standardized tests telling them what is possible.  I could shelter them from the world, drive them everywhere, allow visits with friends only in our own home, and provide private tutors instead of public schooling.  They'd be safe(r).  The only problem with that scenario is that with that level of life experience, I envision them still living in our home, with me doing everything for them, well into their thirties.

So, instead I have this reality.  My son is still helping fix the garage except higher up and using power tools.  Just like here, I'm out of the picture but waiting down below, out of sight, picking up pieces of debris. Loving other people is gut wrenching.  Loving children is heartbreak, in all the good and bad ways you can imagine.

Struggling with irrelevance

"Your job is done.  What you can do has already happened."  A coworker was commenting on how once we have teenagers, we have to trust in the foundation that was laid in the previous decade plus.  We have little if any big influence over choices that they will make, how they will think about themselves, or values that they will embrace.  We must simply trust that what has already been done is good enough.  At a time when all of the big boogie men type teen problems are lurking in the shadows, her comment left me in a state of quiet contemplation, laced with anxiety.  Had we done enough?  Do my sons have what it takes to resist the pressures, temptations, and innocent stupidity of their peers?  Is their own character developed enough to push back against cynicism, anger, depression, and general angst?  Will they retain their specialness or just blend in with the lowest common denominator?

Dr. Garland prepares to fall (Photo credit: genvessel)

The bigger questions: have I communicated clearly, how special they are?  Have I lived out my values in a visible and compelling way?  Have I given sufficient tools for problem solving and judgement?  It's like a trust fall.  I'm up on the log at summer camp, dropping down into the outstretched arms of 10 campers.  It would probably only take one or two people in that chain to break ranks and land my tush on the ground.  The big difference in this metaphor is that my children are the ones falling away from me and it is their childhood that stretches out to catch them.  Children Learn What They Live, the poem by Dorothy Law Nolte, that hung in my home as a kid, keeps playing in my mind.

"If a child lives with approval,
He learns to like himself.
If a child lives with acceptance and friendship,
He learns to find love in the world."

That's all I want.  I don't have to complicate it.  I want my sons to like themselves and find love in the world. I want them to know that we accept and approve of them.  It's actually so much more than that though. We marvel at all that they are bringing to the world.  My biggest fear about the teenage years ahead is that the unique and marvelous in them will be silenced.  Ultimately, that is why I will never be irrelevant.  All of us parents will always have a job and a purpose.  Sometimes it will be to help sort out poor choices or full on catastrophe.  Sometimes it will be to set boundaries and encourage personal responsibility.  Our constant role though, no matter what happens in their life, no matter whether friends or future partners have their daily attention, is to remind them that they are loved and that they are marvelous. It is our life long job and always relevant.

Flashing Before My Eyes

Stop Sign (Photo credit: ladybeames)

So in a very recent post, Time Flies, I commented about helping the new driver in my family log his supervised driving hours for his permit.  Since that time there have been two 30 minute sessions and both times I've had my life flash before my eyes.  The flashes are brief and both he and I return to calm quickly.  The experience reminds me of the announcers at the big, televised, golf tournaments.  They keep their voice two notches above a whisper while giving the play by play of the game.  I'm trying to do the same.  "Turn right at the stop sign. Move out of the lane for oncoming traffic.  Move out of the other lane (slightly louder).  Not that far, pull left (panicked voice). Stop! (still moving)! Stop! (still moving)!  Stop the #$%&! car!"  Car stops. 

We are learning how to communicate our wishes in a very direct way.

I am learning how to move quickly from frustration to praise.

He is learning to listen.

The hardest part of the lessons so far are the handful of moments when he seems to be heading straight towards another car.  It is hard to remain calm and communicate clearly when a hallucinatory bill from an auto body shop keeps blinding my vision.  I take a deep breath.  He takes a deep breath.  "OK. When I say stop.  Stop.  Immediately.  Let's go around again.  Move forward. Turn right at the stop sign.  Good, much smoother."  Flashing on my imminent death or not, we move forward.  We will keep practicing and keep talking and learning.  (A great metaphor that I won't force on you here.)

Drugs and Alcohol - What Would You Do?

A Kranz (wreath) of Kölsch beer. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I was visiting with another mom yesterday and she asked me about teenagers and drinking.  "You've got teenagers.  What are your rules about drinking?  I have a friend who tells her kids it's simple, 'You can't do anything in our house that is illegal in society.'  I don't know that it's that black and white for me."  As a parent with a 13 and 15 year old, I feel like I should have had  a ready answer for her.  As with most things though, I make things up as I go and so far legal or illegal altering substances have not been an issue with our kids.

As we talked further, I realized that I have shared some real life opinions on the topic of drugs and alcohol.  When the boys were very little and riding the bus with me, I would make sure that they understood the likely reason why someone was being so strange, rude, or scary.  I remember describing how using drugs and alcohol doesn't mean the person is bad but rather that we couldn't predict their behavior.  I detailed how one of my favorite uncles had a drinking problem and how different he was sober vs. drunk.  I've also come home and openly shared about my sadness for a resident at the shelter - a person who is funny and smart and kind but who can't get a decent job.  He got involved with drugs when he was young (19) and a felony charge has followed him ever since.  At age 48, a moment of poor judgement still defines his opportunities.  They also see a bottle of wine on our counter on a daily basis.  They know that there is a difference between drinking, being drunk, and being an alcoholic.

As I talked with my friend, I realized how I rarely (as in three times, at weddings) saw my parents drink.  Alcohol was never a part of meals or celebrations.  I saw abstinence as a model and I vaguely heard about alcoholics.  I don't know if I would have made better choices in my late teens if the model in my home had been different.  I do know that when I first started drinking, it was unhealthy.  There were moments where my life could have been permanently damaged because of the choices I made and the situations I put myself in while "altered".  It's not how I want things to be for my boys.  Is it possible to prepare our teens for drinking in a safer way?  Is there anything we can do to prevent the excess and experimentation and subsequent risk?

Is it enough to say, "It's illegal so I won't condone it in my house/presence?"  We spend so much time teaching our kids about life, sharing skills, imparting values, and guiding their choices.  It doesn't feel consistent to leave this part of their life to some fraternity or sports team.  And yet, am I sending a message that the rules should be ignored if I allow for a drink at the dinner table?  Am I assisting their entrance into adult activity before they are ready?  Help me out here.  What have you done?  What are you planning to do?  What do you wish someone had done for you?  HELP!