The Summer Joys of Parenting

I've always been so happy about the fact that I get a full 5 weeks off during the summertime with my kids.  I work the first 5 weeks, then have the next 5 weeks off.  And really, isn't this what every working parent wants? 


I picture it in my mind each year:  this summer, we will have so much fun.  The kids will run in the sprinkler, help with the garden, ride their bikes up and down the street.  We will spend mornings waking up late and eating waffles and bacon for breakfast, and afternoons at the lake, swimming in the clear water and basking in the sun.  On rainy days we will do craft projects I've been looking at all year on Pinterest, and play fun card games, and watch old-time Disney movies.   We'll take awesome day trips to museums and landmarks, and get together with friends, and go to Story Hours at the library and Farmer's Markets. 

This is like the best thing ever.  We might spend a few days down at my sister's in Mass., or hang out with my mom who is only a couple hours away for a week at a time.  It doesn't really matter, because I don't have to work, so we don't need to follow any time schedule or structure.

I get all of this time off when the weather is beautiful and the kids are out of school!  I couldn't be more blessed.  Or could I be?

So if there's one thing I've come to know this summer, it's this living fact:  Days on end of unstructured, unplanned time with children in the biggest fucking wild beast of parenting that ever existed. 

There is no mercy.  There is no break in the action.  There is no saving grace. 

Spending an unplanned summer day with my 5 and 8-year old could be closely compared to taming a circus full of wild animals while simultaneously completing the job of an 1800's civil war slave.  It really just isn't all that enjoyable.

The thing is, I thought I'd have enough money to plan some fun trips.  You know, just little day trips to water parks and museums, fun little adventures to the ocean (3 hours from me) or short little picnic hikes up local mountains.  With all of the money I'm saving on daycare, extra-curricular fees, and random school fundraisers, I can allocate that savings on super-fun memories.

Or not.

Not at all.

Just today, I looked at my grocery bill and realized that it has more than doubled during these summer weeks.  Forgot about that small factor.  During the school year, my kids eat breakfast, lunch and 2 snacks at school for free, because we live in a community with a higher poverty rate.

 But during the summer, I'm constantly feeding these kids.  And I don't mean like 3 meals and a couple snacks a day, I mean like every 15 minute stints of time.  Grazing animals that are scrounging for junk food like loose, free rodents.  My kids think to themselves, "I'm a little bored, I must eat something."

So then I said to myself.  "Ok, it's fine if they would rather eat sporadically throughout the day, as long as the things they're eating are somewhat nutritional." So I buy fresh fruit, yogurts, raw vegetables that I know they like, cold cuts, cheese sticks, whole grain crackers.  All of this great, fantastic food that they consume at an extremely quick rate.  And then all of the sudden, at my weekly trip to the grocery store today, I realized that I has spent $240, as opposed to around $120 during the school year.

But the thing is, they don't even really eat all of this expensive crap.  My daughter will pull an apple out of the fridge, eat two bites, and then be done with it.  My son will pour himself a full bowl of mini wheats brimming to the top with milk, and eat a third of it.  Apple sauce?  Why eat a whole little cup when you can consume just 2 bites?  And go-gurts, might as well eat half of one and save the other half, well, to go in the trash because it's been sitting out too long. 

And juice boxes?  It's just like picking up the next morning ofter a college frat party.  Tons of half consumed drinks in all corners of the house.  Melted partially eaten cheese sticks in the corner of the living room.  Partially eaten cups of yogurts sitting on the dining room table, pieces of scattered french bread pizza all over the coffee table. 

And easy mac.  Oh easy mac.  There's 6 half-eaten mini microwavable bowls sitting on the top shelf of my fridge, just waiting to be tossed in the trash.

The worst part is the milk.  Oh the milk.  4 gallons this week.  The first one consumed all at once in 1 day.  But not really consumed.  Just wasted in bowls of cereal.  And the second gallon of milk, well my daughter decided to pour an entire bottle of Hershey's syrup into it.  Chocolate milk for us.  My son hates chocoalte, by the way.  Chocolate milk in cereal, chocolate milk with dinner, chocolate milk mixed in with Kraft Mac and Cheese.

Then there's the boiled eggs I made, available in the fridge, ready for the week.  "Here you go, doggy!  Have a fresh boiled egg."  There's the bright yellow yolks, sitting there making a mess on the counter because my daughter will only eat the whites.

Then I say, "It's super hot out, let's go to the lake this afternoon."  2 hours of packing.  Bathing suits, towels, floaties, and toys.  Then a cooler.  We need food.  Because my kids can't go more than an hour without being fed.  Because $230 at the grocery store just wasn't quite enough this week.

I  layout the blanket in a shady spot.  I wrestle my children to rub sunscreen all over their bodies.  They swim in the water, then they come out to eat.  They play in the sand.  They come out to have a snack.  They run to play on the swings, go to the bathroom (or do they just want to check it out?). 

And then... wait for it.....

They come to eat. They aggresively lift up the top of the cooler. "How come you didn't pack more food, mom?"

We head out to a museum.  I pack a picnic lunch.  The kids excitedly open it and exclaim, "This is it?  Mom, we're starving."  Evidently, they expect more than a sandwich, fruit, yogurt, cheese sticks, crackers, granola bars, cookies, cucumbers, fruit snacks and chips.  "We want more.  We're hungry."

Okay, so they didn't exactly say this, but they sure as heck acted like their lunches weren't sufficient enough.  "Awwwe Mom I'm just, well, starving." 

Really, kids?  Because I packed you every single lunch food that ever existed.  This summer, you've eaten every meal, snack food, and edible item known to man. How are you still possibly hungry?  You've eaten our family out of house and home, and caused dad and I to practically go broke and begging! 

My 8-year-old son observes: "mom, how come for the first couple weeks of summer we did so much, and now we're doing nothing?" 

Well little boy, for the price it has cost your dad and I to feed you during the summertime, we've been unable to do anything else! 

It's the truth.

I spent over $900 on groceries for the months of June and July this summer, as opposed to around $550 monthly during the school year.  It's replaced the daycare and afterschool expense.  It's exceeded the gas money it takes for me to get to/from work each day.

Our grocery bill has taken over our lives. 

But at least you're fed, little ones.  At least you aren't staving.  Although you still complain. 

My daughter is currently having a meltdown because we are out of nutri-grain bars.  My son just finished off our last bag of microwave popcorn.  My bank account is low, worse-than-ever-low, and my kids are still begging for more food!

Our annual trip to Santa's Village was questioned this year due to the displaced allocation in finances our summer food bill has caused.  Luckily, we still came up with the money to go.  And camping for a long weekend?  Oh goodness, mom.  Plan on at least $300 of groceries for that excursion! 

Anything in the shape of a triangle mom? Pizza, watermelon, toast, grilled cheese?  Don't you worry, we'll bite off just the tips, just throw the rest right in the garbage!  Little cups of mandarin oranges and fruit cocktail?  No problem, we will open every single one and take just one bite, just so you can store them in the fridge for later.  Ramen noodles?  Boil some.  I'll eat a few bites. Chex Mix?  Don't you worry, we'll pick out all of the pretzels and smash the remains underneath the couch cushions.  Yogurt?  Why eat a whole cup when you can eat just half?  Capri suns?  We'll hide them, partially drinken behind the furniture, just so you can have the joy of discovering them when you notice random fruit flies in the living room!  Maybe you and dad can slip on them along with our banana peels we leave in convenient places like the dining room table or the leather ottoman. 

And P.S. mom, we love bread.  Half a loaf a day.  We'll eat 2 bites out of every slice! Hell, spread some peanut butter on that, just big huge globs of it.  And jelly, too!  Got some on the counter?  No problem, we'll leave t for you to wipe up!  No crust on that toast, please and thank you, just throw that shit out, like the rest of your money that is worth nothing, you haven't worked hard for it at all!  Watch that shit rot in the trash, swirl those credit card points in the sink drain alongside our partially wasted cups of orange juice!

Mom, are you really kidding us now?  We were born to waste food and money.  IT'S OUR SUMMER JOB.  Why criticize? 

And really, mom and dad, for the love of god, why waste our summer on fun trips, and back-to-school items and clothing, when you can just buy a whole ton of food for us to waste?   Just buy groceries and do it.  Do it, do it, do it.

Oh c'mon kids, just waste that food!  It's not like we're living in a third world country or anything!  Throw shit in that trash bag with pride and excitement.  Nobody cares.  Who cares if you're wasting food and money?  Nobody in this household works hard for money, anyway! 

Happily throw all of that wasted food down the garbage disposal.  Or better yet, save the good stuff for compost!  Watch it rot in a can.   Throw a $20 bill in it, while you're at it!  Laugh as the millworms and fruit flies attack it!  Let's throw an end-of-summer party to celebrate!

For the love of god, when does school begin again?  In a few more weeks, we might as well have a feast to celebrate that! 

Too bad the food is gone and nobody can afford to buy more groceries....

Cleaning out the bedroom of a 7-year-old hoarder

Let me just clear the air and tell all of you people, without any disregard, in no lack of genuine self-respect, in the absence of any real irrationality or pretention to the real world, any fakeness or make believe, or false-staging, or a keeping up with the Jones’s type of attitude, you all must know my deepest, most darkest secret. 

Ready?

 Here it is: 

I am a horrible housekeeper. 

Yep, I said it.

No matter how hard I work at it, no matter how much effort I put into it, or how much I’ve ever so longed to be one of these women who can keep and maintain a beautiful home, it is with much shame and guilt that I have to come forward and admit- I’m just not good at keeping my home clean and free of clutter, because it’s who I am as a person.

I’ve struggled to acceptthis as a fact about myself for many, many years now.  I’ve denied it, I’ve externalized blame on other things, I’ve painfully pretended that the fact that my house was not oh-so-clean was because of my ever-so-busy life.

But that’s wrong. All of those things are wrong.

So here it is people, with no excuses:  My house is somewhat of a lived-in mess.  There are some days when it is cleaner than others.  There are bouts of time when it is really bad, where I’d be very hesitant to ever let anyone through the front door.  There are times when my husband and I have busted our asses in preparation for company to come over, and there are also times when we say, “F this shit, let’s go do something fun!”      

There’s other things in life I might be ok at.  I’m somewhat good at my job.  I’m a pretty ok friend.  On possibly the majority of days (but certainly not all of them), one might call me a decent mother or wife.  But a housekeeper?  Nope.  Not an adjective that could possibly describe me. 

But that’s ok.  It’s all fine.  I’ve learned to accept it, embrace the mess, and move forward. 

So for about 10 years now, way before my first born child was born, I’ve owned this house, and also have worked the general school schedule.  You know, the general 8-4 week days, with weekends, part of the summers, and most school vacations off.  It couldn’t be a greater working-mother schedule, especially now that both of my children are school aged.  I really do consider myself lucky to be blessed with the idea that I can work full-time and also be at home with my kids for most of the outside of school hours. 

Pretty much since I returned to work after my 6-week maternity leave with my daughter, which was approximately 5 years ago now, I’ve always played like this game of fall-behind and catch-up.  I’ve slowly come to know that there are these stints of time where there’s lots of school, and also these short stints of time where I don’t have to work at all,.  Like September-October- solid school months, then there’s a short break in November for Thanksgiving, another 3-4 weeks of school, then a week or two for the Holidays.  Another long, long, forever long 6 weeks in the dead of Winter, then February break.  Another 6 weeks, then April break.  Then we go the 6-7 more weeks of the end-of-school stretch, and it’s summer time.  That’s the school year, in a nutshell, each year.  And the state of my house aligns right with it. 

Currently, February break has just begun.  And as of Friday night, my house was probably in the worst state of mess it ever has been in.  During the long weeks of school, all of my time is devoted to keeping up with the basics.  Daily laundry and dishes, the weekly assurance that the bathrooms are somewhat of a sanitary place for my family to eliminate and bathe in.  Somewhat healthy cooked meals each night, and general preparation for the next day.  And on top of it, transporting the kids to/from school, nightly homework, sports events, dance lessons, birthday parties (January is just packed to the brim with those) and other stuff.  But other than that, everything else becomes literally just a pile of crap.  The kids’ bedrooms, my bedroom, dusting, detailed vacuuming, deep cleaning of the floors, windows and walls.  These things just do not happen during those 6-8 week stints of time. And it’s embarrassing for the world to see.  It’s a real tragedy.

The surfaces of my household suffer the most during these marathon school-day stints.  The kitchen table, cluttered with papers, mail, and random craft materials.  The living room floor, peppered in dirty socks, and random toys, and chewed-up dog toys.  The bedrooms, with dirty clothes, and more toys, and half-read books.  And the kitchen, god bless the kitchen, with half eaten bags of goldfish, a fridge half-full of rotting food, and a garbage that always seems to be over-flowing no matter how often we take it out.  And during these long stints, it’s all just maintenance.  Damage control.  Making sure nobody dies inside of the hoard. 

And over this February break, I’ve begun on this predictable stage of the cycle, to shovel through the hoard of a busy life.  So far this weekend, I’ve done 6 loads of laundry, cleared off the dining room table, and slowly have worked at rediscovering the floors of our bedrooms.  And while all of the rest of these great house-keeping wives are on their mid-winter vacations down south, or cruises to the Bahamas with their wonderful families, I’m sitting here at home proud at the fact that everybody living here, for one day out of our sad, uneventful lives, can see the real floor of my 7-year-old son’s bedroom.  A true day of triumph in this household. 

We devoted our entire Sunday to it, my little boy and I.  And let me tell you, there is no such thing as throwing away ANYTHING when it comes to cleaning out my kids’ bedrooms alongside them.  They hoard that shit like it’s their last day on earth.  I said, “Little boy, today we’re practicing the 6-month rule.  And this is the big black garbage bag.  And anything you haven’t touched in 6 motnhs, minus random socks and underwear that needs to be laundered, is going into this bag and being kissed good-bye.”

About 5 minutes into this ordeal, I realized that this statement was just a big, fat un-truth.  Cleaning a 7-year old’s bedroom is like a double edged sword: you gain some clean space, and you rediscover every toy they’ve ever played with since birth that they refuse to part with. 

Artifact #1- The nerf machine-gun rifle that he has used… wait for it…. Once.  In 3 years. 
 

“Avery, you have 12 other nerf guns that we just organized up there on that crowded shelf.”

“But mom, this is my battle gun.  I need it for nerf wars.”

“Avery, there are no nerf wars.  When has a nerf war occurred in your lifetime, ever?”

He crossed his arms, "No yet, but there will be one pretty soon.  I've got to be prepared."

Fine, I guess we’ll save this 2 foot, useless gun without any nerf bullets.  We’ll just clear off a whole freaking shelf to the store the thing. Just to have it, even though you’ll never use it.  Just to save you the emotional pain of parting with it. 

Artifact #2- 1 piece of a Velcro catching set.  No velcro ball.  No other catching piece.  Just 1 piece.  With cat hair woven inside of it.  One third of a $5 cheap throw set he probably received at least 2 birthdays ago. 

 

Avery says, “Mom, we use this all of the time.  Remember, I use it at the beach.”

I hesitantly respond, “Avery, you used it once at the beach 2 years ago when you got it for your 5^th birthday.  The other 2 parts are missing now.  It’s useless.  I’ll get you a new one this summer!”

Avery responds, “yes, but if you get me new one this means a third person can play.  You know, like you, me and Amelia?” 

I sigh, doubtedly.  “Alright fine.  Throw it in your closet with the rest of the summer toys.”

Artifact #3: The horse clock we won last year during Avery’s school fundraising raffle.  Too ugly to do anything with.

 

I say, “Avery, this is junk.  We don’t have any use for another clock, and it’s broken.”

He reponds, “Mom, I can’t even believe you’d consider throwing this out.  Dad won it at my school raffle.”

“Avery, we’ll never use it.”

He cries, “Let’s hang it above my bed.”

Yeah, because a broken wild horse clock goes so well with an outer-space themed bedroom. 

Artifact #4:  3 sizes of Woody dolls- why have 1 when you can have 3?

 

I exclaim, “Avery, we’re getting rid of 2 out of 3 of these, which 2?”

He says, matter of factly, “Mom, we’re getting rid of none of them.  I play with them all.  The little one goes along with my lego guys, and the medium one I play with Amelia’s barbies all of the time, and the biggest one is like a classic.”

I nod, “Well then let’s hang onto the biggest one.”

Avery, “No way, we’re definitely keeping all 3!”  He grabs them and throws them into the bottom of his toy box.

Artifact #5:  Emperor Zurg

 

Avery, “Oh my gosh I’ve been looking for Zurg!”

Me, “For real?  Because he’s been sitting here out in the open on the floor right next to your bed for over 3 months.” 

Avery, “Yeah he hibernates during the war.  Now that the war is over with, he coming back to rule the kingdom.”

How do I argue this explanation?

Artifact #6-  Dollar store wrestling figurine.

 

I look at Avery, “This guy needs to go.  You never play with him.”

“Mom, the wrestling team isn’t even a team without him.”

I shoot back, “Avery, he’s been sitting in the far corner underneath your bed buried in a pile of other useless  toys and dust for at least 3 months now.”

He takes him from my hand, “No he hasn’t been.  I just put him there like yesterday to hide him from the others.”

No you didn’t, I say to myself.  Liar. 

I throw him into the toy box.

Artifact #7, the most random af all:  A yellow rubber chicken.

 

I don’t even ask Avery.  I just throw the dang thing in the big black bag.

He dives for it, “Mom, what are you thinking?  This is the prize I won for traveling the furthest to see Papa Pitman’s performance in groundhog Opry when I was 4.  It’s so special to me.”

I look at him, “Avery, it was wedged behind your beaureau and it’s leg and beak are chewed off by the dog.  It’s trash now.”

He pulls the rubber chicken into him, “Treasure.  My forever treasure.” 

A chewed up rubber chicken is now treasure? This really just about sums up everything I once knew about life from a 7-year-old’s eyes. 

The list goes on.  With every new artifact, it goes on and on and on.  We throw out nothing.  We hoard every last toy on his never-ending messy floor.  What this little 7-year-old boy doesn’t know, is that during the next time when he is not present, most of this stuff will be thrown out and he will never know it was missing. 

I suppose with every hoarded mess, there’s a story, a reason, and an explanation.  My little 7-year old sweetheart, keep on doing that.  You’ll end up a housekeeper quite like your own mother. 

But I guess that’s okay.  There’s plenty of worse things you could be.  We’ll revisit all of these crazy toys during April break, and until then, believe it or not, this house will still stand strong, amongst the clutter and chaos that we call our own! 

Little child, in a word, "NO!"

Raising children is the world’s hardest job.  When a baby is born into a set of new parents, people hate to warn them: This job will gradually become different, ever-changing, and more challenging as your child grows.  But the funny thing is, you’re welcomed into it with an intense, sleep deprived, attention-sucking initiation.  And everything after that, you’re kind of just prepared to role with the punches.

During the first 6 months of raising a child, you become broken, and kind of rebuilt.  Everything you knew as a person has changed.  Your freedom, your ability to come and go and complete tasks as you please, your self-worth and every conviction you’ve ever held close to you: it’s all questioned and compromised, everything inside of you is all of the sudden turned upside down.  But you slowly learn. 

And as a parent, that’s really what its all about.  It’s learning more about yourself, and growing with your child.  It’s a game of maybe I should and maybe I shouldn’t, maybe this is the best thing, and maybe this choice just might be absolutely horrible for my kid.  It is pure joy, it is deep fear, it is the most vulnerable you’ve most likely ever been, wrapped in hope, and endearment, and love, but tied in ribbons or worry, and questions, and uncertainty.  And the older your child becomes, these common uncertain feelings that just tangle themselves in a messed up smorgasbord of everything listed above.

I am a parent now, of a 5 and 7-year old.  And let me tell you, this game has been all about pure love and adoration, and also living, learning, and teaching.  As my children have moved on from baby-hood, to the toddler age, and into middle-childhood, I’ll tell you, it’s not an been an easy ride.  And I’ve been told before, time and time again, it really doesn’t get any easier.  Probably harder.  And whoever it was who once told me that all I needed was love to raise a great child, was really just dead wrong.

The thing is, we all love our kids no matter what.  Their little quirks, their challenges to make sense of the world, their struggles in adapting to general experiences.  But what all of those parenting books, advice and articles fail tell us, is that the hardest part of parenting will be the harsh teaching from right from wrong.  The moments where we want so badly for our children to be happy, but in the long term, we also want our children to be respectful and adapt to life circumstances. What a balance it is. 

There’s one thing in life that has been so difficult for me across the board- in social situations, in my career, in relationships, and in parenting.  And that is the ability to say “NO!”

Hey person... NOPE! This won’t happen on my behalf.  Absolutely not.  It’s not what I support, it’s not who I am, it’s not something I want to do.

 The ability to say that simple 2 letter word to everyone around me most certainly hasn’t come easily, but it’s necessary in my survival as a person and as a parent in this world.

In 32 years, I know what I’ve learned.  I’ve learned that if there’s nobody more important to say no to, I might as well say it to my children.

“No.”  I whisper.

My daughter wants to eat a large piece of chocolate cake for breakfast.

She begs, “But mom, PLEASE?”

I respond, “Absolutely not.”

She cries.

I crumble inside.  What’s one piece of cake, anyway?

“Absulutely not.  Here’s your choices: Cheerios, Toast, or a Bagel.”

She cries some more.  I listen to it. My heart feels for her.  I love chocolate cake probably just as much, if not more than she does,

But I hold my ground  I say, "NO!"  And it's against the grain of everything I've become accustomed to in my life. 

And inside of my mind,  I remind myself-  children aren’t able to make rational decisions.  This is why they are children and not adults.  I have to help them to understand that cake is not a reasonable choice for breakfast.  As much as I hate saying no, I’ve got to! 

And eventually, the girl moves on.  And then there’s the next thing.  My son.

“Mom, everyone has this World of War Game.  I want it.  Can we get it?”

“Well son, ummm, NO.”

This time it’s harder.

“But mom, why?”

"Well, because it’s violent and aggressive and inappropriate for your age.” 

But the thing is, this poor guy thinks he’s so much more mature than 7-years-old.  And maybe he is, and maybe he isn’t.  But I said no, and I’ve got to stick with it.

He says, “Mom, I obviously know this type of stuff doesn’t go on in the real world.  I promise it won’t make me violent.”  And in a small sentence, this little 7-year-old boy is onto me.

Smart kid.  But NO.  I said no, and I meant it.

In my life, I’ve struggled so much in pretty much every social situation to say no.  Want to play Rummy?  Sure, why not?  Want to go on this crazy upside down fair ride, even though you’re terrified?  My dear friend, for you, I will.  Want to jump in the water naked with no regrets?  Hell, yes!  Hey let’s paint our dorm room orange and act like we're retro kids.  Ok, awesome!  Let’s work on this project together. Sounds great.  Let’s crash this party.  Awesome.  Lets buy a dime bag and sit out on the beach all day long baked out of our minds.  Fanstastic.  Let’s have sex in the bed of my truck and pretend like it never happened, okay?  Okay. 

 But at what point in my life do I decide to draw the fine line, and say, “NO!!”

At this point.  At the point where I’m raising my own kids, where I feel established and self confident enough as person to know right from wrong. These little beings can’t make these decisions, so I will. It's my job to protect them and teach them, and I refuse to feel bad about it.

There’s times in life when you've got to look out for yourself, and it’s important to say “NO.”  Then there’s times where you can be flexible and just go with it.  And then all of the sudden you're responsible for lives other than you're own, and you can gain an outside look, and you realize that at  times, it's really important to say, "NO! of their behalf.  Parenting, ebb and flow, is most likely one of those times. 

To all of the parents of this world, who have struggled to say "no".  The ones like me: the flexible, easy-going, fun-loving types of parents.  If not now, then when?  Challenge yourself, say “NO!!” 

I promise, your kids will benefit from it more than you know!

“Mom, let’s have cake for breakfast!”

I whisper the words to myself, I say them out loud: “No.” 

This isn’t what best for you, and it certainly isn’t what best for me. 

Little child, in a word, “NO!”

And "NO" is just as an acceptable answer as "Yes."

Promise. 

To my middle-class, white, American son- If nothing else, I want you to be kind.

To my middle class, white, American son, on this inauguration day:  If nothing else, I want you to be a kind, respectful, loving human being.

 The 2016—2017 election has brought profound controversy in our society and country to so many social issues that you should question and think critically about.  The idea of human peace, the idea of acceptance, the idea of economic growth within our country.  Who to consider a part of us, and who to deny the idea of united acceptance and overall wealth and prosperity. 

My dear cherished little boy,  if you do nothing else with your life, I want you to be kind.  

I want you to consider all of these ideas that this 2016 election has  brought on, and develop your own opinion and perspective.  And with all of those things, I could care less about anything you become, as long as you are an open minded, accepting, humble and generally kind  human being. 

I have no worth or investment in organized sports, or athleticism.  I could care less if you become an acclaimed musician, or a high academic achiever.   If you can write a great essay in your distant future, I’m proud of you.  If you can make the winning assist in a basketball game, I am proud of you.  If you can play a well-known tune on the piano, if you can hit a home-run, if you can make it to the top ranking of boy scouts, I am proud of you.  Become an acclaimed scientist, or a successful lawyer, or a rocket engineer, and I am proud of you.  I am proud you for being who you are, no matter what.

 If your life path leads to being a garbage pick-up man, you have my support.  If you decide to become an IV league college scholar, you have my support.  If you decide to work as an adult part-time at a grocery store, or become a full-time dad, or decide that being a teacher, or a truck driver, or a factory worker, or whatever you will decide in your lifetime, you will have my whole hearted, undivided support and value. 

Even if you become a billionaire, or the most well-known U.S. business man there every was- even if you win the Nobel Peace Prize, or become the U.S. President, I am proud of you.  But just as proud of you as I would be proud, anyway, because I'm your mom. 

After all, you are my beautiful, part-self created son. I will nurture you, I will build you up, I will love you no matter your struggles, your challenges, your faults and your strengths.  I am your mother, without reservation, and with an unconditional positive regard. 

There’s some things in life that I want to help you to know.  And if you become nothing more than an adult who holds these values, then I feel like I’ve done my job as a parent.

#1- I want you to be open-minded. I want you to be able to relate to every walk of life that you are surrounded by.  The privileged, the poor, the nasty and the nice. I want you to hold the ability to relate and identify with each individual person.  To value different opinions and perspectives, and love each and every culture that you are exposed to.  I want you to set aside your own beliefs, and life choices, and accept others with an open heart.

I want to you value human kind, as a higher imprtance compared to material items, to life choices, to beleifs and values.  Human existence and functioning is more important than anything in life. 

#2- I want you to be accepting.  I want you to admire the strength and purpose of others, and to ignore the comparisons to your own.  There are many people who you will meet in your lifetime who have more than you, and even probably more who have less.  And when I talk about the “haves” I don’t mean the superficial things.  I mean the personalities that understand ideas in life differently, the people who have natural talents, the who have a and foundation of privilege, and also the people who are down on their luck.  There's a whole lot of people in this word who just aren't as god damn fortunate as you, and they aren't people to look down upon.  Instead, they are people to relate to, and empathize with, and build up, just as I've built you up. 

I want you to be able to sit, in comfort, in a crowded, diverse room at the same level of those people, and not feel one lick of greater worth, than "them".

 “Those other people” are not separate or divided from you, instead, they are part of your team.  Your experience of knowing them is what will helps to make you who you are. 

It's my hope that you never look down- on anyone, or anything.  Only look up.  Live your life out of hope, and never fear.  Believe that the best will come to you, only because if you believe in the worst, you will waste your young life away on worry instead of happiness. 

#3- I want you to be humble.  No one person is greater than the other.  You are not above or below anyone else.  You may have have a different background, a different set of skills, and have made different life choices- but it certainly doesn’t make you better or less than any human being.  When you believe you are more or less deserving than the person next to you, I will challenge that belief with my entire heart and sole. 

#4- And last and most important- I want you to be kind. 

I want you to encompass the full understanding that every human being has an internal struggle, just as you do.  You most likely will not have the time to learn or understand that internal mind of others, and that’s okay. But love them anyway.  In moments  of outrage, in moments of fear, in moments or insecurity and self-doubt--- if everything else fails, be kind. 

I promise you, the skill of kindness alone will carry you through your life in the best of ways. It holds more importance than the American dream, than the amount of money in your pocket, than the volume or quality of the possessions you own or the network of people who you're associated with.  The mere value of kindness will never doubt you, it will never betray you, and in its return , it will only bring you more joy, and compassion, and empathy.  And you will be so much stronger because of it. 

To my privileged, middle-class, white American son, I will love anything you become, as long as you are an accepting, open-minded, humble and kind person.   And there’s no doubt in my mind, that with some hard work, deep introspection, great examples, and common exposure, that all  of those things, you will become.  No matter what walk of life, what race, what gender, what religion, what sexuality, what WHATEVER, you will love and accept and relate to those around you,  add I will be so PROUD of you.