Mothers, Sons, and Dissidence
I can assure you, I was ready. Ready and proud to receive him. I have studied psychology throughout the process, and I have loved him with no restraint, unconditionally, despite his bespoke prickliness for me. And so this leaves me to ponder: How will I ever prove my worth? As a mother, that is.
How will I ever not be devoured in a surfeit of gossip about my utterly reckless, rebellious child? The one who has been feisty for as long as I can remember. And that means from the first screaming moment we brought him home.
But this is not about me. No, much more importantly -- how do I be a good mother to him? Especially now in the aftermath of his having made a lot of really bad decisions – with real and imagined consequences in their wake? Why has the Universe fomented such low self-regard this child? Where is the inspiration for his logic, his problem solving? Never mind that he may be ill, frightened and feeling unsafe at school.
And how at the same time, can I be his advocate without drowning in the system myself? Because he is self-effacing, after all. I stood transfixed as he weaved through obstacle courses made just for him. How can I help him be the exquisite (if complex) person he truly is?
No, at the moment of truth, I love my child. Naughty or not. Prickly or not.
And I shake my fisticuffs at the Universe expecting me to be able to handle this – while my free hand is busy holding tightly onto my son’s.