Rookie Mistake

I vividly remember feeling like an adequate mom. In fact, a righteously good mom.
Ben was about 6 months old. Rolling over was ancient history. An early crawler a month before. Slept all night. Ate anything and everything I threw at him. Smiled on cue. Babbled. Still nursed like a champ. Absolutely positively darling. A good baby. I naively thought: "I'm good at this- mothering is fun. It's in fact, Easy" I stayed home. Full time. I ran everyday with a jogger stroller. I have never looked so good. Hot, maybe even. Nice nursing hooters and trim and thin runner legs. What did I know. Parenting is easy. Ha. Rookie mistake.

And then gradually these babies start walking. Talking. And cute little sayings turn into demands. Unsolicited Comments. Sometimes fairly embarrassing things about swim teachers with "really big swim suits" (which is nicer than "fat-as-a-house") and "I don't like that" about Grammy's dinner menu. Perhaps a curse word or two. Things that make us feel the-opposite-of-proud. But they have a mind of their own. Ironically, a mind that we are trying to cultivate, yet often battle at the same time.

And conversations change. Their opinions have breadth and width and reason attached. And there's a spiritual compass at work. A Conscience, we hope, guiding. And it's easy to forget- so easy... I am raising A Man. This boy- with the knack for 3-point shots and careful printing and atrocious spelling. This boy who can recite stats from a sports page to rival any ESPN anchor. This boy who carries his brother around on his back singing "Baby monkey on a pig" like the crazy you-tube video. He. Will. Be. A. Man. A good one, I pray.

And so, when it came to one of the most difficult parenting decisions this month we've faced I walked away from that Rookie platform. The one where I think I know what I am doing. The one where I feel like I am in control. And I asked my son. "What's it gonna take?" "What do you need from us?" "Where can you be yourself and your best and your most?" And it wasn't the answer I thought it would be. But we found it together. His dad and Ben and me.

And today on this crystal clear freezing day I walked him into Jefferson School. Aware of the confidence he mustered. Embracing change. Wanting it even. Admiring his enthusiasm and grace under pressure.  I smiled as he shook his new teachers hand and politely asked "Where's my desk going to be?" Jumped in. Unbridled. Happy. Clear in his decision and heart. I snuck out so as not to embarrass. And knew. This man that I'm raising-- he's going to turn out okay- whether I know what I'm doing or not. He does. God willing, he does.