Growing Pains

Dear Jackson,

Last night we went for your middle school orientation and you were so excited that you could hardly control yourself. Earlier in the day your entire 5^th grade had been on a tour of the school, so you were pointing out science labs and locker rooms and showing your Dad and I around like you owned the place.

Outwardly, I was smiling and nodding and listening to the presenters because I am thrilled for you to be taking this next step towards independence. But on the inside, it felt like a part of me was dying. I was there crying when you started your first day of child care and then again on your first day in the pre-school class and on your first day of kindergarten. I actually cried harder when you went to first grade than kindergarten, because by then you had moved into the big building with the upper grades. And when you walked down the sidewalk at the end of that first day with that giant book bag on your back, you looked seven feet tall and grown.

I know you don’t understand all these feelings. I know I am a source of embarrassment most of the time these days. In all honesty, there are things I enjoy about being your Mom at every age and the more independent you become, the more helpful and responsible you become. But while the days are long and seem to stretch beyond the normal twenty-four hours, the weeks, months and the years are whizzing by like a flash of lightning.

When you were an infant I felt confused about 95% of the time. I was tired, overworked and frazzled in every way possible; I didn’t know what to do or when to do it because I had never been anyone’s Mother before. Believe it or not, I am eleven years into the job and I am feeling the same way all over again. I am still tired, overworked and frazzled….except now I am also older, heavier and I have to wear glasses to read J. Most days I don’t know what to say, how to say it or how to respond when you don’t want to hear it. I volley between wanting to pull you close to me like I did back then and wanting to rip your head off if you talk back to me in that tone one more time.

I want to be someone you trust and come to for guidance, but lately I can’t tell when I am suppose to rush in with potential answers or hang back and let you make your own mistakes. I remember how decrepit my parents seemed when I was your age, and I cringe when I hear their words coming out of my mouth. Fortunately, your brother doesn’t completely ignore me yet, although I have caught him rolling his eyes a few times lately. But you can be certain that he is watching every move you make as you blaze the middle school trail for us all.

In my confusion I have resorted to reading a lot of books about adolescents at this age and talking to a lot of parents whose children are either successfully maneuvering middle school or have survived and transitioned to high school. I have no doubt that together we will sail this ocean and find a treasure chest of memories waiting to be unearthed in the next three years. I remind myself that at this point I have had the privilege of being your Mom for 4,041 days (and counting) and I haven’t had a map or a guidebook thus far.

But if you could occasionally look back at me and smile as you sprint into this next phase I would appreciate it. And when your heart is broken or your spirit is weak because of someone’s words, or an All-Star game lost or your own inexperience, please know that I am ready and waiting. I may not be able to say or do the right thing….ever…..but I am here! Waiting in the wings, with my own heart breaking and soaring, while I cheer for you loudly and silently. I am here for you always and I am here for you in all ways. Godspeed, Sweetheart, and please be careful.

All My Love,

Mom