The Emperor Has No Clothes

Being a mom, the topics of which stages of childhood you love, or can't wait to pass, comes up in conversation, occasionally. And my answer, across the ages has always been and still is, I love them all. I love babies when they are first born. In those first moments of life I informed my children, "I'm not paying for college." Harsh perhaps, but sorry, there is no hundred thousand dollar free ride, and they might as well know the truth from the start. I loved nursing my children. I loved having them in my bed at night -- and I am secretly delighted when a bad dream brings them calling again. And I love holding them so tight I think they just might reenter my body.

I love it when their little legs look like twigs as they toddle around. I love those tiny arms that reach up to hold you, and the eyes that say I love you, even through the tears.

I love it when they finish my sentence, "I love you so much, I could squeeze you like a..." tube of tooth paste. Or "I love you more than" and they finish it off with, "life itself." They do that for a very longtime.

I love it when they start walking to school by themselves. Though I miss holding their hands, and wish for the olden days. And when they miraculously can do their homework on their own. What ever happened to needing mommy to "do" math? I miss it. But they grow up.

I love it when they are in high school; but it's heart felt. For the struggles of tougher course loads and social infrastructures are hard to watch as a mom. And this age, requires a complete a total change in communication. In elementary school a glob of paint smeared on paper, the masterpiece, is hung up and displayed until the tape dries and the piece falls to the floor. At which point the work is placed in a scrape book for eternity.

In high school, the emperor has no clothes. A big smile and a piece of tape doesn't make a masterpiece. Acknowledgment does.
For example, a text arrives: bio 77.
The text goes out: R u ok
The response: Thought i did better (Student has a full keyboard. Mother doesn't.)
Mom: Wht could u hv done dffrnt
Student: Reread my notes
Mom: Nxt time Love Mom
Student: Love you too.

Or this timely exchange:
Student: (SAT score typed in here.)
Mom: How r u
Student: K I wanted higher
Mom: last scores
Student: 1800
Mom: So u r disappointed.
Student: Yea
Mom: Bt u did bttr - not what u wanted bt bttr
Student: Yea
Mom: Love u Call me
Student: TTYL Love you too

For I have texted for hours having indepth conversations, but why -- when talking works so much better. For a young adult, I love the honesty found in communication. I love saying, "Yes, you are upset, and have every right to be upset, but only you can make a change in you." And I love watching the changes being made. I love watching that tree of integrity spread out its branches. I love how they take ownership of their circumstances, saying, "I did it," when the it is not good. No more childlike pushing blame elsewhere. My mom job is done.

Though right now, I am not loving the idea of going to college. Not for them, but for me. They are so ready to go. The not so baby bird, standing on the edge of the nest: ready. And I'm asking, "Can I have a sleepover?" And my emperor keeps answering, "No."