Being Mommy

Yesterday I posted a memory of a note a wrote to my mother saying she was the meanest mother in the world and I hated her. That memory reminded me of my relationship with my own son. He is my oldest child, and when he was a teenager, it was a difficult time for both of us. He was always kind and loving, but as a teen his rebellious streak held precedence for several years. It seemed that nothing I did pleased him.  He never did suffer fools gladly, and his attitude toward some of his teachers, got him into trouble at school too often for his parents to bear. I wrote this poem to him when he turned 17.

To Mark

My beloved son, my first born.

Eyes like flint in your handsome closed face,

I am not your enemy,

You were longed for, waited for, cared for,

Expected.

Do I expect too much?

Shoulders, elbows—sharp angles,

I see your back more often than I see your face,

Rough words of one syllable.

Remember

The big red reclining chair

(I tried to slipcover one summer)

You could sit beside me, in the curve of my arm,

No angles then.

Giggling at Grover; Solemn with King Friday.

When did I stop

being

Mommy?

Mark is now a husband and a great father to a teen age daughter and a young son. Just keep loving your children and believing in them.

 

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12 thoughts on “Being Mommy

  1. I also read the same post you mention and thought of my own son. I think he is a lot like I was. My mother said all the gray hair she has is from me.

    Your post reminds me to focus on him and not his behavior. Some days I feel he is just testing out the edges of life.

    Love the poem.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Thank you — I have two teenage boys and we have these moments. They still are connected but not like they used to be. It is work to keep our relationship alive and sometimes that work is giving space. I will hold on to your advice: Just keep loving your children and believing in them.
    Clare

    Liked by 1 person

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