My son will enter high school in the Fall. Wait, let me read over that last sentence again…I need time to let this sink in. My sweet baby boy will be in high school in the Fall! Wasn’t it just yesterday that we stood together in our first tae kwon do class, me looking down on the top of his little fuzzy head? Uh, no, that was eight years ago. 
The jumbled up emotions that have hit me since sitting at the high school parent orientation meeting this past Tuesday have been varied forms of “Oh shit!”
“Oh shit, I don’t know how to help with honors Geometry!” “Oh shit, this means I am old!” “Oh shit, what if he doesn’t make any friends.” “Oh shit, what if he makes the wrong kind of friends.” “Oh shit, I hope he makes the baseball team, because if he doesn’t his little self esteem is going to be all shot to hell.” “Oh shit, my baby is going to be an adult in four more short years!” Four. More. Years.
Many of you have been there done this already. You nod your heads at the paragraphs above with a smile on your face and you viscerally get what I am talking about. I liken this to the time my client came in and told me his first daddy story. I nodded, I got it… really, really got it. But if I had tried to tell him anything before that day it would have fallen on deaf ears. He now listens to me with a bit more enthusiasm.
Okay, so I am listening friends. How do you do it? How do you make sure your baby survives high school? How do you get through the bad weeks, because I know there will be bad ones. How do you make sure they know how much you love them, without really getting all mushy on them, so that they know you are there if they need you? How do you begin to let go, without totally letting go, give them space, but not too much space, let them explore without getting pregnant or arrested, let them feel independent without actually giving them total independence?
I have a feeling that the next four years are going to be some of the most challenging and most rewarding, for both of us. The challenges he faces will shape him into an awesome young man. The ones I will face will remind me what I am made of and might even redefine the roles I have played for the last 14 years. This is big stuff. Another chapter specifically not for sissies.
When I let the weight of the reality of life in this moment of pondering really sink in, I am sad. It just all went so fast. When you are holding on for dear life to the years flying by, there is hardly time to reflect, readjust and try again. For some things you only get one chance. You have to stay present. In the now. Conscious. I have done some things right. And I have screwed some things up.
Four more, important years, of childhood, but not really. Somewhere in there, he has already become a little man. He slipped that by me at some point. I was there, but I am not sure I was paying attention. The parts that are still kid, they are little glimpses I get now and again, almost like accidental slip ups. When he lets the little kid who is left come out and play, and that giggle flies out of his belly, I can feel the whiplash as my head turns toward that sound, like I might never hear it again. And I desperately soak up that joy like a paper towel on a spill. And I wish we could rewind a few years.
I am not sure how you begin to let go without your heart breaking into a thousand pieces. But it is time to begin to let go, only so that he can believe in himself. Time to allow him to find his own path, whether or not I think it suits him, only so that he is aware he has a choice. Time to let him fail, only so that he can know success. Time to be brave. Time to pray. Time to believe that the love I have is enough. I can do this. Right?
Four years.
Oh shit.
COMMENTS
I have news for you, my friend. The groundwork has been laid. This is a time where you see all your hard work and love pay off. He will be fine. And you’ll get to watch (okay, maybe from a distance you’re not yet accustomed to, but that’s normal. He’ll need some space.) him take off, and begin to soar. And you will be so proud it will make you cry.
He will be fine, you will be fine. It’s all there. Keep a close eye, listen hard, pay attention. They don’t say much, but what they do say is important. You will be reassured.
The keyhole through which we watch our children feels like it’s ever-shrinking. I’m hoping it opens up again later. But I don’t know. I’m not there yet. Parents of post-high schoolers, care to comment? I’m listening.
Thank you Lori. The things you said…yeah, I want to believe it. I think they are true. And it seems so fragile, all of it. Glad I have friends who will be there with me… So, so grateful.
As I read your words, memories filtered in…days gone by…watching you grow into the wonderful woman you are…realizing there are no do-overs but thankful for the outcome.
And I smile to myself knowing that you will do your very best, and so will he! Enjoy the next four years. Celebrate the accomplishment of the last thirteen!
Love, Mom
There is a bumper sticker for this event ~ and having never heard you use the “s” word before, I’ll share it with you. “Shit Happens”.
You have enjoyed most of what occurred leading up to this time.
You will enjoy most of what occurs during this time.
You will enjoy most of in all future times.
You have neat kids. You have a great family. You are blessed. You do good works.
Enjoy the ride. Keep your hands and feet inside the car. Have fun!
LnLm
Love you Marty!
