Roots and Wings

I have been a mom for almost 13 years now. I will be honest it is easily the most heartwrenching job I have ever done or will ever do.

"Give your children two things: one is roots, the other is wings".

Giving your children roots is the easy part. Giving them, or rather allowing them, to have wings is a whole different territory and by far one of the scariest places one can be. My eldest is just shy of 13 years old. He has been trying to convince me for the last year that 12 is not "tween" but a "teen". Ummm...no, but I let him believe it. Is it worth the fight? Probably not.

But there are some things that are worth fighting for. As I say he is a 12 year old dealing with adult issues with kid logic. He has some major gaps in the cognitive processes required to be an adult and he may be 12 going on 40 in many ways. But this last year has probably been the hardest year of my life as a parent. It was the year that I learned that giving them wings meant you also had to teach them to fly. And part of learning to fly is being allowed to fall flat on their face from time to time. And any mother and father can tell you that watching them fall is what makes you want to cry. Tough love sucks.

For the last year I have found him on his face time and time again. I have picked him up and put him back on his feet. No thanks. No hugs. Nothing. And I have had to step back and let him take that next leap to try again and once again watch him fall. I/we (bio-dad and I) give him tools, he refuses to use them and we watch him fall yet again. And now he has hit pretty low. And this last time when we asked "do you want help?" he agreed to take our hand and walk to a different ledge before leaping off to try and fly again.

Yesterday I watched him in the backyard playing with my youngest and it occurred to me that in less than 5.5 years he will be considered an adult. In another year and bit he will get getting his Learner's Permit to drive. In 3 years a Driver's License. And in 5.5 years he will be hopefully ready to fly on his own.

A part of me wanted to run out and hug him. To save him from his first heartbreak. To save him from his first bad experience in everything. But to do that would hold him back and he would not grow into the person he is meant to be.

It is hard to figure out where that fine line is between over-parenting and giving too much freedom. And just like him we are doing the best we can, with the knowledge we have and the life experience we have. I just pray that I will not accidentally clip his wings so that he will be able to soar when he is ready.