Tuesday, November 12


He didn't know I was there. This fuzzy picture is my proof.

Proof that I'm trying.

I'm trying to become the kind of parent who can drop everything to be there for the program that means more to them than it does to me. He wanted to wear his Cub Scout uniform because it seemed the right thing to do.  He learned the National Anthem and America the Beautiful.  I'm so proud of him for doing it, for singing it, for being a part of a community that's bigger than himself.

I'm trying to learn this new language of homework and fundraisers and signing in to get a sticker to sneak down the hall just to watch him for a second.   Homework is the easy one.  Because he snuggles up next to me with his pencil sometimes.  Because I get to teach him sometimes.  Because he wants to do it to be a part of all the brothers doing their homework together.  It brings us together in that sense.

I'm trying to become that mother that can with grace and trust let someone else have my son for the bulk of the day.  His teacher is, indeed, a lovely and loving woman.  I can't help but appreciate and support her. And  the reading specialist, the music teacher, the art teacher, the gym teacher, and the principal who smiles at me each morning and tells me to have a great day as I descend the sidewalk sonless.

I'm trying on a new culture that lets go. A culture that says even though we're separate a lot, we can still do parades and picnics and thankful meals together.  A culture that says you, Mom, are the support we need  but if you can't do it then we can still feed him lunch.  A culture that says we're doing some serious work, but, really, come by anytime and get a sticker and sneak down the hall just to watch him for a second.

I'm trying to do this well, to lean in, to be a student and to breathe this second half of life.  This is what's in front of me today.