internal struggle

Let him sleep

Posted on by New At This

That boy, asleep on the couch, is my son. He just finished a grueling ten weeks at Basic Training, the festivities of Family Day, the pomp and ceremony of Graduation. He was tired, with a level of exhaustion that he had never experienced before in his young life. For the first time in two and a half months, he could be at rest without worrying that someone was watching for him to screw up, he could take a deep breath, he could relax. And he could sleep.

In the two and a half months he was gone, we got a total of seven minutes of conversation. I had spent 36 hours in a (very small) car to be there. I stood in line to get a seat in the bleachers, waited for hours in the sun, to bear witness to the accomplishment he had achieved. When I was finally able to find him, mixed in amongst the 1,400 other camouflaged soldiers, the clock began ticking. He was to report back to the barracks at 19:30. We had a total of ten hours of free time ahead of us. He had a checklist of things he wanted to do, and most of it revolved around eating and spending money. Day two began in much the same way, waiting in line, vying for the best seat, trying to pinpoint him in a block of soldiers with identical uniforms and haircuts. And another countdown until he had to report back, once again, to a drill sergeant. We had fun; we shopped, bowled, played pool and Galaga and board games, ate pizza and Chinese takeout and so much junk food. But by 17:00 on that second day, he was tired, and all he wanted to do was nap. And so, still in his dress blues, he stretched out on the couch in a crowded hotel room and slept.

I was so very aware of the minutes ticking away, before I would have to drop him off again, knowing that we would be separated by thousands of miles and months of training before I would see him again. I was reminded of all the times, when the span of his life was still measured in hours and days, and he was lying in a bassinet sound asleep. The wonder surrounding this new child was so profound that more than anything, I wanted to wake him up, so that I could begin to learn everything there was to know about who he was going to be someday. But the best advice I ever received when I became a mother was “do not try to make a sleeping child happier” and so, I let him sleep.

I am learning that the relationship a mother has with her grown children is very different than the one we had when they were growing up. I am more than a friend, but less than a parent and we are still finagling with where the boundaries are supposed to be in this new world. I am not afraid that I have failed to do a good job as a parent. I did the best I could with what I had. I always knew that raising my children to be self-sufficient was the goal we were working toward. No, my biggest fear is that I have done my job too well. What if, while teaching them to stand on their own two feet, I also taught them not to include me in their lives?

These are the adjustments I was not prepared for when my children became adults. When something good happens to my kids, I want them to think “I have to tell my mom.” When something not good happens, I want them to think “I need to call my mom.” I want them to introduce me to their friends and include me in their celebrations and seek me out for comfort and support when things are hard. I want to be invited into their lives. But I don’t know where the line is. I want to let them be independent, let them choose their own adventures, without being clingy or overbearing. It is so very hard to be standing on the outside of the door, knocking where I used to enter freely, waiting for the door to open, hoping to be welcomed.

I know what I hope for in the relationships I will have with my grown children. I don’t yet know what they want. I am afraid to ask them that question because I am also afraid that I won’t like the answer. Everyday, I am learning to accept that there will be chapters in their stories that I may never get to read. I don’t worry less about where they are and what they are doing, now that they are adults. But I am learning to worry quietly, to keep the anxieties to myself, to make peace with ambiguity about their well being.

In that moment, I wanted to talk to him. I wanted to tell him how proud I was, how much I have missed him. I wanted to hear all the stories of the adventures he had been on, the friends he had made, the goals he had accomplished. I wanted to fill, with words, the void his absence had left in my home. I wanted to feel like I was still a part of his life, now that he is living a life without me in it every day. I wanted to lay the foundation for a new relationship that spans time and distance to keep us close. I wanted to reassure myself. But you can’t make a sleeping child any happier than they already are, and I want him to be happy. So, I let him sleep.

Someone needs you.

Posted on by New At This

There are a number of children wandering through this world that call me Mom. Some of them are “bonus” kids I was blessed with as part of a romantic relationship, some of them are the informal adoption of kids who I have a connection to, and three of them I carried under my heart for nine months before they made their entrance into the world. Some of those kids chose college, and some of them didn’t. Over the years, they have collectively held jobs across a wide range of industries. The various paths these kids have chosen to travel will lead them to very different destinations, but each of them is on an amazing journey.  

A little background info on the kids I gave birth to. I have been blessed with one girl and two boys. My sons are in the military, my daughter went to school to be a massage therapist, but found that she makes more money waiting tables and she (usually) enjoys it, so that is what she does for a living. Awhile back, I was preparing for a road trip to see my youngest son graduate from basic training. I was talking to my daughter, who had said she wanted to go with me. During the conversation, she told me that there was just no way she could afford to make the trip and she hoped I wasn’t disappointed in her. I assured her that I was only disappointed she could not go, but I was very proud of her. We talked through what she was feeling and the conversation ended on a positive note, but it really got me thinking. 

Currently, there is this prevailing attitude that certain jobs, especially those that are white collar, or public safety, healthcare, or military, are more respectable while jobs in the “blue collar” or service industries are considered less important than other jobs. It is easy to see the importance in some of those jobs. We know the value of nurses and teachers and firefighters and police officers. I have a lot of respect for my sons for deciding to join the military. The work they are doing is important and necessary. I am proud of them, that goes without saying. But I am also proud of my daughter. Her job is also important and necessary. It is not somehow less honorable than the job her brothers do, and we, as a society, need to understand that. We need to recognize that her contribution is just as important to society as a whole. Now, there are smarter, more famous, people talking about the institutional bias against blue-collar work so I am not going to get too far down that rabbit hole. Today, I am not going to rant about the socioeconomic impact of the service and trade industries. (If you don’t know who Mike Rowe is, you can google him and the work he is doing. He is much more eloquent and entertaining on that subject than I am capable of being.)

There are countless examples I could give you of momentary interactions everyone has, each day, with people in the service industries that can make a day better or worse: the cashier at Walmart, the barista at the coffee shop, the delivery driver who brings your pizza, the person who picks up your trash, all of these people touch our lives and the service they provide us is often taken for granted. Today, I want all of the people working those jobs to hear the lesson I hope my children have learned.

The work you are doing is important.

The fact that someone is willing to pay you to do a job means the job has value. The work you do in service and trade jobs is often hard, and dirty, and thankless. Every day, you will have to deal with people who make your job feel heavy and unrewarding. But trust me when I tell you that you are there for a reason. The universe has been conspiring to put you in exactly the right place, at the right time, to meet the people who really need you: 

The quiet man eating dinner alone in the restaurant was seated in your section because he needs you to be a smiling face who jokes with him when you take his order. Ever since his wife passed away, he doesn’t get out of the house much and you are the only person he has spoken to in a couple of days. 

The frazzled woman staying in that particular hotel is in that room because she needs the clean, inviting atmosphere you created when you cleaned it. She is traveling for work and she doesn’t want to be here. A hot shower before she crawls into bed may be the only luxury she has right now.

The distracted man waiting in your line at the convenience store needs your kind words when you authorize the pump and take his money. He has a long drive ahead of him, praying to get home to see someone he loves before it’s too late.

The exhausted mother waiting for a service call to make her TV work needs you to be kind while you fix a technology she barely understands. She has two toddlers at home and she already feels guilty that she lets them spend too much time watching Paw Patrol so that she can have some peace. 

The shy little boy who dropped his lunch tray in the school cafeteria needs you to reassure him while you mop up the mess. He is embarrassed, near tears, because people are laughing and staring. 

The excited dad ordering the kids meals needs you to joke with him and his kids while you punch in the order and get it bagged to go. He only gets to see them on the weekends and he wants every minute he spends with them to be happy. 

The nervous teenage girl who called roadside assistance needs you to ease her mind while you change her tire. She has never had a flat before and no one taught her to how to change it. 

No matter what kind of service you are providing, I promise someone needs the work you do, with the special gifts you bring to that job. 

Now, I am not implying that you will have a profound impact on every person you deal with. Most of your interactions will be fleeting and forgettable. But, there is no way of knowing which of the people you help today will need you. People are (too often) fighting an invisible battle that you will never know about. Every day you will encounter someone who is struggling to hold it together: through the battle of a divorce or breakup; through the loss of a loved one, a job, a home, a pet; through illness, injury, or heartache. There will be days when your smile, your kind words, your service, will make a difference. You can be the kind stranger whose unknowing encouragement gives them strength. Maybe, just maybe, you can change the course of a person’s day through the service you provide, and it is in those moments, day by day that lives are changed.