I’m feeling thoughtful today.
Last night I drove my son and three other teenagers from our church youth group to drop them off at a weekend retreat. Four teenagers half-yelling over each other in my car was quite an experience.
Most of the ride was spent discussing music. They have a wide range of interests, some of which I share (and some of which I sincerely don’t). Scanning through radio stations and stopping at songs one or another wanted to hear. At one point someone broke out with “Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy…”
Someone is raising their kids right. All four of them knew every word to Queen’s “Bohemian Rhapsody.” There was a very enthusiastic five-person a cappella rendition. I think I’m a cool mom now, LOL!
When we got to camp and unloaded the pile of bags and pillows and sleeping bags (and food!) from the back of the truck, Chris grabbed his stuff and took off towards the boys’ cabins without a backwards glance.
Finding myself asked to move my car so other parents could unload, I figured the best thing to do was just to head home. On the one hand I couldn’t be happier that my son is comfortable enough with 100 other teenagers and a few harried (but very dedicated) adults to head off on his own.
A tiny part of me, though, watched as time did that weird telescope thing that time does for parents as their children grow. I saw myself prying him off my leg when he was two and didn’t want to stay at the day care. And I wondered, when did this happen?
My son is growing up. He is 14 now and a freshman in high school. He tops me in height by several inches. His hands and feet are bigger than mine. He is learning things in school that I never learned and never will.
A very large part of me is intensely proud that Chris is doing this growing-up thing so well. He is smart and caring and occasionally as awkward as a half-grown puppy, all arms and legs that don’t always do what he wants them to do.
He is also beginning to prepare for Confirmation and to try to figure out what path God wants him to take in his life. Since my primary job as a parent is to get my kids to heaven, this discernment is a very important process to me, but I can’t do it for him. All I can do is pray for him and encourage HIM to pray and listen for the whisper that will show him the path meant for him.
What I wish all you other parents out there could tell me is, do all parents raising teenagers feel this way? 99% terrified pride and 1% sadness that I will never again be as central to his life as I was when he was two? Happy excitement that his world is getting bigger by the day paired with fear about all the dangers he will be navigating soon?
Is it normal to want to kiss one more boo-boo? To tuck him in and try to find his head under the pile of blankets for one more good-night kiss? To have him reach to hold my hand in the parking lot one more time?
When my mom was my age she was a new empty-nester. Both her daughters had left for college. I’ve got quite a few years before both my boys will be out of the house, but this weekend I can all too easily look forward to the day when my firstborn will head off to college and spread his own wings.
I think I need to call my mom.
QUESTION: If you have kids, did you feel this way when they were teenagers? Any advice for me?