Life's Journey and Helping Someone Else Fly

An era is over. Never again will it come again. Its time has passed, and a new era has taken its place. C'este la vie. Right?

I'm talking about my son. For years whenever Spouse and I both left the house son was required to come with. He was just too young to leave home alone. Then, he reached the age where he could be left home for short periods, such as when we just had to run to the grocery store and back. Recently, he became old enough to leave home all day while Spouse and I worked. Then I lost my job and was home anyway. But in those times when Spouse and I needed to leave to go to the store Son was eager to tag along in hopes of getting something cool. Or just to be with us.

No more.

Now when we go shopping we get the question: Do I have to come along? Or: Can I stay home?

It's never going to change, is it? He's discovered the joy of personal space and personal decisions. When I'm not home he gets full and uninterrupted access to the computer. Besides, hanging out with Mom and Dad isn't always fun. Especially not in a store. Fortunately, he still likes to come with us to the zoo and to parks and to bicycle. Remembering my nieces and nephews I am guessing we only have a few years left of that.

It's a difficult time we've entered. But it's necessary. If things follow the natural order then Son is not going to have us around for the rest of his life. He needs to learn how to make his own decisions, live with the consequences, and learn what it means to have personal space.

I expect there will be a strong pulling away which will last a few years. Then, after he becomes comfortable with his new life, there will be a return - of sorts. It will never be like it was. He's only entering his teenage years now - a difficult time for everyone - but when he finally leaves them behind he will be a man, not a little boy.

It's the way it should be, of course.

Hopefully, Son's transition through these teenage years will be far less confrontational than mine were with my Mother. With Daddy I never really got to that point. He died before I left high school. There was the time he punched me in the mouth. I'm not likely to have such a confrontation with Son. In his nearly thirteen years I have only dealt with him physically four times.

Twice I cracked the top of his hand with my finger because he was hitting his mother. I used my finger because it hurts to hit something with the side of one's finger, so I knew I wouldn't hit too hard. I know those who are against corporal punishment are probably appalled, but I felt it was warranted. He was being openly defiant, daring me to do just what I did. He hit one day and then again the next. Both times he felt the side of my finger rap the top of his hand once. I told him: You hit someone and someone is going to hit you back. If that's what you want, fine. To my knowledge he has never hit anyone again. Certainly not his mother.

The other two "physical" punishments I gave were "time outs". Son was kept in his room while I sat in the doorway waiting for him to settle down. I sat in the doorway because it was inconvenient for me. It is my firm believe that punishment should cost something to dole out. Something important. That way there is a lower chance of over punishing. So I sat in time out with him.

All four of these incidents took place before Son was four. Maybe even before he was three. Believe it or not, I have never had to deal with him again. He just doesn't disobey. He doesn't argue. He doesn't whine. If he thinks I'm wrong he tells me. And he tells me why. Sometimes he's been right, and I have corrected my own behavior with apologies. When something goes wrong he comes to me and tells me what and how it happened. I don't punish accidents - or honesty. It's been wonderful. Hopefully, the past years of love and acceptance will get us successfully through these teenage years.

I have many memories of my teenage years. Some are happy. Most are not. I have warned Son ahead of time about how some things will be, and why. It is quite normal for teenagers to be ashamed of their parents. It is quite a shock to come to the realization that Mom and Dad aren't nearly so brilliant, beautiful, or successful as one used to assume. It feels like a betrayal to learn they are just regular people like everyone else. In time, the feelings of betrayal depart, to be replaced by genuine love and acceptance. But it's always disappointing to find out the truth about those we once kept on pedestals.

My goal is to avoid the mistakes of assumption my parents made. I have at least one advantage over my parents in this: I am ten years older than they were when I entered the same period as Son. While I'm not keen about everything age has brought me, there is one thing I am grateful for. I have a better perspective on others and what really matters. I no longer get upset over things that used to make me fly totally out of control. In the past ten years the only times I have ever reached that level of anger has been when Son has been threatened. Otherwise, I have learned it doesn't really matter.

So Son is getting older, even as I am. He's just forty years behind me. If I can just do my job right, it won't be nearly so stressful for him as it was for me. And maybe he can avoid some of the social pitfalls which have taken hold of me and become something far more. The potential is certainly there. My family held me down to the ground. I want Son to fly. Let him explore the heights I never knew. Let him discover who and what he is, knowing I will always welcome him back when he feels the need to visit.

But sometimes I miss the little boy.