They Are Listening

Yesterday, I had a small amount of stress within, as I fought with the latest 'book keeping project'. Second Son was witness to my boss's command that I take the night off and forget about book keeping for the night. She looked directly at My Son and told him to make sure that I didn't work. And he obliged.

We sat down and shared a bottle of wine. I relaxed and forgot about book keeping. He relived his first day on his new job ... and some of the anxieties that preceded that.

We talked easily. It was like old times. Times when we would sit and talk about the parallel lives we were living.

Then he gave me the biggest compliment a mother can receive from a child. He told me that because I keep 'reinventing my life' (these are my words, not his ... I can't remember his exact phrasing), it inspired him. He wasn't content to just let his life happen. He wanted to take the reins and make some changes. Thus ... the shift of career choices for him.

As a parent, I don't consciously make decisions based on what my kids will think. Yes, I have made choices that have been in the best interests of my children. Yes, I think (later) about how my reaction to life's adversities could affect them. Yes, I do try to model what I hope is a good life. But no, I haven't 'reinvented my life' to inspire my children. Yet ... maybe it has?

Each of my adult children have (at one point in their lives) shook their heads and said to me, "I can't believe it ... I'm turning into you!" This was not necessarily a compliment when they uttered the words in disbelief. The shock of instinctively reacting in the way your parent does, is frightening to a young adult. I felt their pain.

Yes, I hear my words in my children at times.

The most recent memory is that of Second Son playing the Wii downstairs. The laminate flooring has very good acoustics and I could hear the profanity rising up the stairs and into my hearing range. The thought did cross mind, that it wasn't appropriate language for My Youngest to be listening to. But I bit my tongue. It's not a biggie.

Then I went downstairs for some reason as the Wii game continued. As I descended the stairs, Second Son hit another level of frustration with the game he was playing. And once again, with his booming voice he uttered: "Sheesh kabob!!" (my profanity of choice).

I thought, ''That's my boy!" He's been listening to me all these years, after all ...