The other day my son was texting his girlfriend and told her two things that I’m struggling with in a big way. He told this girl (who I’ve only just met tonight) that I was “evil” and that his “life sucked before her”. Wow.
Rationally I realize this is part of the growing up teenage process – the fraying of the apron strings that keep him bound to me. I also understand that he wrote those words not intending for my eyes to see them and that his girlfriend interpreted his words in a sweet and caring way. But they hurt nonetheless.
Yes, I read my sons text messages – he’s only a new teenager and has his first cell phone. That may have been my first problem, but I doubt it. This one – this child; my last – has been different from the moment he was conceived. I knew I was pregnant within days of conception because I had heartburn (and gas) almost immediately. The heartburn has never really gone away since that day.
This is my child who believes that the world should be fair, equal, balanced. He believes that everyone is his friend and that everyone can be trusted. He loves easily and wholly; he takes hurt personally and deeply. He is my “in the moment” child and doesn’t pay much attention to what may be or what could happen or what plans need to be. This child is my sunny, happy, twinkling, dimpled, leprechaun child. His love language is quality time and his personality is Golden Retriever/phlegmatic/sanguine (pick your book, you’ll find him there). He is social and outgoing and loves groups of people; sitting still and seriousness is not his style. But he has a heart for children and a way with animals. He loves sports and the outdoors and playing and moving.
As I watch him grow and mature; I wonder how many times that character will be trampled by others. I consider how many times I’ve squelched his joy, his essence, his spirit with my motherly misunderstandings. I ask myself if he truly believes that his life “sucked” (or still sucks) or if that’s just his way of communicating, in teenage language, how special he thinks this girl is in his life.
Evil is a word used in many ways from “evil step-mother” to “axis of evil” to the “evils of drugs”. Simply put, it’s a four letter word for bad, nasty, wicked and mean. In teenage lingo it roughly translates to expectations of the parental units that are restrictive and confining – you know, rules about grades and curfews and clean rooms and chores and that horrible stuff the adults think up to keep kids under their thumbs.
I’m pretty sure I didn’t think my mom was evil or that my life sucked. I remember thinking my mom was out of touch (which she wasn’t) and pretty strict (which she was) but I also remember knowing that my mom trusted me. She trusted me because I didn’t betray that trust. It never occurred to me to try to be home after curfew or go to a friends house without calling her or seeing a movie that she’d said no to. I know I had more freedoms than many of my friends because of that trust.
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