It is my son’s 15th birthday today and as such I am sure I am meant to come up with some meaningful and heartfelt post about how awesome he is (because he is).
But he’s fifteen now, which means he’s half man and it’s probably not so cool for me to write about him all over the internet (if it ever was).
So I’m not going to share with you how awesome he is or how proud of him I am. I won’t tell you about how people who come into contact with him rave about him and make my heart swell. I won’t tell you about his compassion and kindness and his sense of humour which surpasses his dad’s by far – and is a teeny, tiny bit of a fraction off mine. I won’t tell you how much joy he brings to the people around him or how .. oh okay I see what I’m doing, I’ll stop.
After 15 years of raising this amazing person you would think I had it down pat, that after rearing such a brilliant and talented young man I would be an expert at parenting but, turns out I still have a little bit to learn.
Yesterday I read something that really struck a chord. It was advice told to Jennifer Berney saying “I was good at being present through the hard emotions but I wish I’d been more present for the joy.”
Jennifer writes in a post for Brain Child
“So far I had measured my parenting on how well I tended to my children through their daily disappointments, their struggles and grievances. But when it came to how well I engaged with their happiness, I never measured that.
I began to consider the moments when I interfere with my children’s fun. There’s always a reason: it’s bedtime or it’s time to leave for school. They’re messing up the bed I just made, or their shrieks are hurting my ears. It’s true that sometimes the fun must end. But it’s also true that sometimes I can make room for it by starting our bedtime routine earlier, for instance, or training them to help me remake the bed that they’ve unmade.”
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While I am sure Little Pencil is a whole lot older than Jennifer’s kids (he puts me to bed some nights) it still rings too true for me. I am the mother that is infinitely patient when he wants someone to talk to, when he needs to process things. When he has been scared or sad in the past I have been the one to console him. I am good at the hard emotions.
But when he has been rambunctious and loud, when he’s been playing “wildly” with his friends or his father I have been the one telling him to dial it down, I’ve been the one thinking “someone’s going to get hurt” or “this is going to end in tears” and while I may have not said these words (a promise I made to myself about 16 years ago) I would have said something that equated to that.
I don’t like to think that I have quelled his joy or not been witness to it. Of course there have been times of outstanding joy and sheer happiness and I have joined him in laughing from the core of our beings and rejoicing from the very centre of our hearts, but I have started to think that maybe I have not reveled in his joy as much as I have in engaged in his “difficult emotions”.
I admit that at times it’s been hard watching him be happy because often that happiness involves shooting things (on a screen), wrestling people (anywhere) or laughing at really stupid stuff (loudly).
Often his happiness is measured in decibels.
So now that he is 15 and probably ready to enter the grunt stage of teenage hood, I am ready to relish his noise. Excellent timing indeed.
Thankfully he’s perfect and I am still open to learning.
I love this … You are doing an awesome job!
No parent can be present for every moment of joy. Sometimes their joy and ours just doesn’t sync. Sometimes kids do need dialling down. Sometimes even their joy is annoying. It’s all ok. You are such an amazing mum. Happy birthday E xx
I would never expect to be present for his moments of joy but I think there’s a big lesson to be learned in being good at handling the good times and not just the bad times. I’m good in a crisis, I need to learn to be good at the happy times
First of al a big happy birthday to Ethan from all the Wellies. He sounds like a rocking kid.
But I read this with such a heavy heart which makes me feel terrible. My middle beast was always my happy kid, my good and lovely one. Everyone loved her and commented about the joy she brought. And now it’s all gone, well not gone but so buried as to be invisible to those who love and know her. Sixteen is tough but 16 with a mental illness is hell on earth.
I guess I just miss the joy.