It’s just bed making.

I’ve said the “oh my kid will never”, or “my kid will do this when he gets older FOR SURE.” It honestly sounds like you are an absolute nut to believe any of the “never will my kids” nonsense.

And all us other parents are making fun of you.

So here I sit. Eating my own words. Because I have done A LOT -more than I should have- for my son.

I expected him to switch out bedding on two specific twin beds. Not rocket science.

UNTIL IT IS.

Y’all.

I’m working my tail off cleaning this house. I need a little help. Not much! Just to put two twin beds together. Sheets. Pillow cases. Top cover. Smooth it. Done.

Didn’t have the power nor the want to, to pull it off. Meanwhile, downstairs I’m drenched in sweat. Finding spiders and trying to get things done quickly and efficiently, before my better half returns from his vehicle. Where he is deeply involved in one of eleventybillion zoom meetings.

Sorry babe.

My sweet child calls for me from the top of the stairs.

“Mom! I need help.”

Now, this darling child has made his bed MULTIPLE TIMES. But today, it wasn’t going to happen.

Until, I MADE it happen.

I responded to him, by hollering up the stairs, “Brother, you’re gonna just have to figure it out.”

Silence.

Forty five minutes later, I’ve finished moving furniture and cleaning floors.

Silence.

I move on to bed tear downs, downstairs and switching out for clean.

As I’m pulling a comforter out of the dryer I notice he’s now downstairs and is standing in the laundry room doorway.

“Mom, can I help you with that? Or something? I finished the beds.”

“FANTASTIC BROTHER!”

“Baby. I don’t need your help for everything. Not yet anyway. What I need is you to take initiative and get things done. Like, me.”

He nodded and headed back upstairs. Shortly after I went up to check beds. Sure ‘nough he got it all done. He didn’t ‘need’ me for anything.

Let me tell you what his ‘need’ of me was.

He needed an atta boy. He needed me to tell him what to exactly do. Because he didn’t have the confidence to complete his chore.

Because I NEVER let him.

I’ve cooked, cleaned, cared for, washed, dried, wiped, fluffed, spit cleaned and vacuumed, it all his whole life.

Whoa. Can that be right??

Uh yeah.

So, I climbed the stairs. I saw his perfectly made beds. Complete with throw pillows. Wrinkles in bedspreads swiped across. Because, “I watched you do that one time.”

It looked marvelous.

And then I grinned. And then I giggled. And then I laughed.

He stood there in that bedroom, watching me sitting on the edge of one of the beds just cracking up, and looked at me like I had lost my mind.

Not yet brother. Not quite yet.

I had my epiphany. I decided I’d share it with him, and possibly turn it into a teachable moment.

I mean, I’m not a complete failure.

“Brother. I love you. Please understand that I’ve withheld an amazing gift. Because I couldn’t quite ‘let go’. I know you can make breakfast, your BOMB DOT COM spaghetti, and you honestly vacuum better than me. I just need you to see that you can do things! You CAN. You did. I haven’t done you any favors by doing it all myself. For that I apologize.”

I wiped the sweat dripping down my neck. “I’ve done you a disservice.”

He grinned, “Um. Ok mom. I appreciate it? I think?”

I hugged him. God bless him. He’s got a good simple heart. Hot temper. Stand against what is wrong. And you never, ever have to guess what he’s thinking.

Should I survive him, one day he is going to do something powerful with his voice and his words.

Until then, I’m going to make a point to tell him how much I appreciate him. How much he really does help me. How much I love his spaghetti! How what he does in our home really matters.

I can’t say I’ll never say another “never” about my child. So go ahead and get to laughing. But for now I laugh. At myself. The situation as a whole. The fact that I’m utterly exhausted. And that my kid thinks I’m nuts. He knows he did a good job. He KNOWS how to do things. He just needed a slight nudge. A gentle kick in the ass, if you will.

Because, if I don’t. Lord, either I’ll never get him married off. Or, it’s going to get real awkward between me and his misses.

I kid of course. She’ll be lucky to survive me. Xo