Growing through fire and pizza.

So, two people get together and they decide they really, really like each other and they have a kid and they THINK they’re on the same page as far as parenting and then that particular kid changes the entire game.

This is just a Monday.

Tuck has a pretty easy schedule. Nothing too awful crazy. Some days like any other human he doesn’t want to do the work. He’s not motivated. That’s cool. I have a basket of good things to say or do even to move him forward. Which was the case today. “Everything I touch is wrong!” Is how it began. “Nothing is going right! I hate doing computer work!”

My dude. I hear you. I see you.

It’s not that it’s ‘hard’ work per say. It’s just a hard day.

Now then, having given you the preface of this delightful day. In walks Mr. Tiffee. It’s lunch. I made pizzas. Two kinds so everyone gets what they want. He can FEEL the tension in the house. “Listen, this Monday didn’t hit it off real well with Tuck. It all worked out eventually. But just know he’s hurting and went through the fire to finish his work today.”

What he heard was, “FIX IT!”

Jesus take the whole damn car. I ain’t even concerned with the steering wheel. It’s gone. Fell off. I’d even bet that Tuck ripped it off.

Mr. Tiffee wants a schedule. He wants order and complacency. Oh dear.

I feel there should be a ‘Key’, a ‘legend’ other than me, if you will. The term “Oh dear.” Is mama talk for, “oh s€!t”. I’m always sarcastic. I’m not mean. I’m just sarcastic. Good. Moving on.

About the time that Tuck says he did his thirty minutes of exercise, Mr. Tiffee is in the middle of a full court press with me. “But I didn’t SEE you do your thirty minutes of exercise Tuck?” “Fine. I’ll do it again.” Turns out his ‘do it again’ is actually him heading out to the rowing machine. But in order to do said thirty minutes, two separate doors have to be opened. Each of which Tuck slammed. Oh dear. Could he at least have waited until his father left the house?! Nope! Not my kid. Hit ‘em hard see where they fall. Great for sports. Terrible for emotions.

When he came back inside thirty minutes later, I asked him to sit with me. To which he did so, so politely. On the couch across from my recliner and as he sat, he smiled at me.

My sweet boy.

“Sorry for slamming the door mama.” “You’re fine brother. Is there something you want to talk about? Any feelings you want to share?” “Yes.” “Yes I’d like to tell you that I don’t like things sprung on me. It’s upsetting and I don’t like it.”

….

“That’s all?” “Uh. Yeah I think that’s it.”

“Ok well I love you, brother.” He gets up to leave and as he is, he tells me he loves me too. Meanwhile Mr. Tiffee has stopped chewing mid bite and is staring at both of us like we’ve grown an extra limb.

After Tuck leaves he asks me, “is that it?” “Yeah. He’s fine. He just needed to tell me something that’s all.” “But he’s just going to do it again tomorrow or the next day.” “You bet he is. And that’s ok. Because I’m still going to calmly ask him to sit with me and tell me what’s wrong. Tomorrow. The next day. Probably the day after that.” “So. Ok. So, you don’t want me to fix anything?”

I adjusted my readers away from my eyes again, “Um no, but thank you. Go eat your pizza.”

It’s not about fixing. It’s about listening. It’s about seeing who he is as HIS person. I can’t parent him the way my folks did. Nor would I want to. We can’t parent him for a world that doesn’t exist. We can only parent the child we are given and hope to God it works out. Because you can protect them, you can give them coping skills, hell you can send them to the most expensive private school around. But can they come sit with you? Can they spill their feelings onto your lap and can you handle it? He doesn’t need fixing. He needs his mom and dad. Xoxoxo