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18,If Only You Knew…

11 Apr

aj

The other day my 18 year old son had a conversation with my mom, the normal grandma type talk about school, siblings, struggles (good thing my mom was a social worker). My mom shared with me part of the conversation and it went something like this:

AJ: ‘I think mom is getting weird, like really paranoid.’

Grandma: ‘Why do you say that?’

AJ: ‘She’s always asking where I am, if I’m drinking or doing drugs. Is that part of menopause?’

My mom laughed out loud then proceeded to explain the trials and tribulations of being a mom to teens. She also shared her story of when my brother and I were teens and she started growing bald from all the stress we put her through which then made my son laugh out loud. Literally she was losing her hair and was diagnosed with alopecia when I hit high school but was fine before I graduated college.

Being a mom to teens is hard. I believe my gray hairs are showing themselves at record pace but of course we worry about our kids the minute we welcome them into this world. My son will probably never know that when he was born 5 weeks early and placed in the NICU incubator I held my breath, that when he had his first asthma attack at the age of one I cried and couldn’t breathe myself, or when he had a cold on top of asthma as an infant I would sleep with him on my chest sitting up so his nose wouldn’t plug up laying down, or when he continued to need breathing treatments well into elementary from meandajasthma I would lie awake in his room on the floor listening to him struggle to breathe and set my alarm every 4 hours for his breathing treatment. He will probably never know that when he would get hit as a quarterback in 7th and 8th grade I would physically feel sick to my stomach, or the time he cried because he couldn’t understand math and wanted to give up that I cried too. He won’t know that when he didn’t make the varsity basketball team and he sat in his room and cried that I was sitting in my room crying harder because when your child’s dream dies a part of you dies with it. He may never know that when my cancer diagnosis was bad I would lie awake in my hospital bed crying thinking about him and his siblings and willing myself to fight just for them.

So today, it’s not menopause or paranoia, it’s love and the process of trying to let go (ok maybe peri-menopause). I ask the questions because I want to know. I ask them so he knows I care. The world is hard and at 18 they think they know it all. In a few short months he’s graduating high school and leaving for college. I still want to hold him, I still want to take care of him. I want him to know how much he’s loved. His hurts will always be my hurts, his joys will be greater joys to me. All I can do is pray, trust God, and KEEP ASKING MY PARANOID QUESTIONS 🙂car

Parents rarely let go of their children, so children let go of them. They move on. They move away. The moments that used to define them – a mother’s approval, a father’s nod – are covered by moments of their own accomplishments. It is not until much later, as the skin sags and the heart weakens, that children understand; their stories, and all their accomplishments, sit atop the stories of their mothers and fathers, stones upon stones, beneath the waters of their lives.     — Mitch Albom

Today I wear Kat Von D Studded Kiss Lipstick in Lullabye. If you want great color and staying power Kat Von D is the brand. The lipticks are not super moisturizing but not super dry either. This is a fun color for spring with sparkles. I chose it mainly for the name because I used to sing lullabies to the kids when they were young. Cheers!

 

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