My son is 17 years old today.
He’s obnoxious , ungrateful & entitled .
He’s also funny, affectionate & bold.
How did it happen that I am a mother to someone who is 17? I blinked and I was 42. Being 17 feels so long ago to me. Time is such a funny thing, it feels like age ago that I gave birth , I don’t recognise myself from that time anymore, yet our lives shadowed in the fall of eternity are just a tiny speck of dust in the universe.
There was a time that I may have been pricked with anxiety or unhappiness that he would be disappointed with his gifts, or the amount of money that he received , that he would somehow love me less. I am glad that this insecurity has left my heart, it crept in a little this morning and I admonished myself, his entitlement is pretty ugly , he needs to learn some thankfulness and humility , so a little bit of disappointment might be just what he needs. What we give would never be enough to sate his ferocious appetite for stuff . How did it get so?
Today I relinquish a little bit of my hold on him, on my own attachment to him. On my propensity to still hold him hostage to being a child . I will try to do this less. From now on I pledge , he can make his own mistakes & get his own self out of bed. If he’s late or doesn’t go to college then he can get a job and start giving me pocket money!
That is all I have to say about that.