I woke up this morning feeling conflicted. Since the sun is shining, my kids are outside playing, and the house is relatively quiet I thought this would be the perfect opportunity to attempt a therapeutic blog post.
Today is no ordinary day in the Crabb Shack. It’s kind of monumental, actually. It’s our oldest son’s 13th birthday. Most of me is absolutely thrilled that today is the official start of parenting a teenager. I happen to think that teenagers are truly the most wonderfully weird, emotionally unstable, completely lovable, awesomely awkward, & totally rad people on the planet. I literally can’t get enough of them. I love them. I absolutely ADORE mine. He’s so cool. I love being with him (most of the time, anyway). And I am so looking forward to navigating these crazy and complicated years with him.
Yet there’s this tiny little part inside of me that feels like laying in bed & bawling my eyes out all the live long day because I swear on all things holy that I JUST gave birth to that human being yesterday!!!!! How is he taller than me?! Where has all my time with him gone?! Will I blink & he will be wearing a cap & gown?! Or worse, will he be rockin’ a tuxedo & smiling at some girl in a white dress who is gonna whisk him right out of my arms & my life?!
(I think we can all agree that I’m not feeling the least bit dramatic AT ALL about this.)
I’m sure all this is just because Jimmy is the first one of our “babies” to dare to turn 13 on me. Let’s face facts, by the time poor Ella is 13 I’ll probably be like, “Hey! Happy B-day! I got you a card, but I forgot where I put it so when I find it I’ll throw $20 in it and we’ll call it good, ok?” God Bless her. Maybe she can put that $20 toward the therapy she’ll surely need if she survives all the days of her youth.
Mainly, I’m just praying I don’t screw this up. Not too badly, anyway. I’m not expecting to be a perfect mom…I mean, a kid’s gotta have something to complain about when they’re an adult right? I just wanna be a mostly decent mom. And I’m really hoping that where he sees me fall short and screw up he will see the only Perfect Parent standing right beside me and look to Him to set the standard. I’m thinking that Jesus and I will probably spend the next 13 years much like we have the first 13 years….having a lot of late-night talks and early-morning talks and middle-of-the-afternoon-when-the-vacuum-drowns-out-the-noise-of-the-kids talks.
I’m sure, much like I did, that Jimmy will doubt a thousand things about himself and the world around him during these teen years. But I pray he never doubts how loved, and special, and treasured, and accepted he is within the walls of our home. And if we can make it through these years with minimal lectures and zero call from the cops that would be a definite plus as well.
my anchored life: 