Advertisement - Click to support our sponsors.
The Goddess Speaks
WHAT was supposed to be a warm, long-awaited visit with my soon-to-be 21-year-old son turned into a frigid, tight-lipped standoff ending with him stomping out the door. No goodbye, not even a backward glance. He stomped off in so much indignation that he left his sunglasses and cellular phone behind. Important, if not vital, stuff to a soon-to-be 21-year-old male. Inner battles
are just as toughHow it happened remains a blur. The moment our conversation turned sour I cannot even begin to pinpoint. But of this I am certain: It happened the moment one of my "if you ask me, what you should do is ..." remarks glided out of my mouth. From that point, the slow downward spiral was irreversible. Like a plane nose diving toward earth, our nice, warm visit began its crash and burn.
Our light-hearted banter turned chilly. Each sentence took on a staccato beat as each word translated into a jab, punch and duck, and BAM! It was all over.
Acid-laced words aimed to eat straight through to my heart, spewed out of him. I sat stunned as I listened to each harsh word coming from the mouth of my first-born child. And while I sat in this semi-paralyzed state, he picked himself up and was out the door.
THIS has happened before. You'd think I'd know better. You'd think I'd heed my inner warning and shut up before potentially damaging words left my lips. Sometimes I catch myself in time and I'm proud of those moments when I choose not to be a meddling mother. When I follow my own advice that children need to live their own lives, make their own decisions and accept the consequences that come with them; when I remember not to live their lives for them, all is well.
But it's a pretty hard task for a mother. It takes forethought, patience and determination to keep your mouth shut when all you want to do is make your child's life easier than your own. It takes constant reminding that, as parents, we have done all we could to teach them right from wrong, and free them to make their own mistakes, the kind that lead to wisdom. It's all a part of growing up.
He's a young adult now and fast approaching manhood. Physically, he can drive a car, fly an airplane if he so chooses, even father his own child. so why I presume to know what's best for him is a question I wrestle with all the time. Should I even tell him of the outline I've plotted for his life: his career in business, his quick-witted wife, his 2.5 children?
Dare I believe that the simple act of carrying this child in my body for nine months and enduring the trauma and pains of giving birth to him endowed me with the right to dictate his life? That a mother often knows her child better than he knows himself?
Of course I do, but with age, hopefully, comes enlightenment. So after almost 21 years, I'm happy to say that I am learning. My son and I have fewer "crash and burn" incidents. I put myself on alert the moment I say, "Hi son!" I remember to encourage more, criticize less.
But deep inside, like every mother before me and every mother to come, I'll continue to believe I know what's best for him. I'll pick out the girl who'd be the perfect wife for him, and once in a while, I'll peek at that outline I created for his life to gauge where he's at. After all, the contract of motherhood has no expiration date and remains irrevocable.
Sorry, son.
Debra Evans is a secretary and writer in Honolulu.
The Goddess Speaks runs every Tuesday
and is a column by and about women, our strengths, weaknesses,
quirks and quandaries. If you have something to say, write it and
send it to: The Goddess Speaks, the Honolulu Star-Bulletin, P.O.
Box 3080, Honolulu, 96802, or send e-mail
to features@starbulletin.com.