5 Years, Quite Delayed
Son, the past year has seen our relationship change more than I would have predicted. Some of these changes I saw. Some of them surprised us all. You started going to school every day of the week, and I've been out, too, working every day and, more importantly, still going to school and/or tending to other work concerns three evenings or more out of the week. We don't see each other as much. And those interactions we do have are still affected by my responsibilities outside the home and our new challenges within as well.
This year you saw your mother's belly grow and, less than two weeks after you turned five, she gave birth to your younger brother. I wonder if I should have prepared you more for this at the same time as I think that there is no way that I could have prepared you.
I find myself caught between negotiating for a balance between all of us and trying to figure out what you need, or what your mother needs, or what I need. Already I see you, like me, move to frustration and anger. I desperately want you to come through this time, and I know you will. I am at once confident in the wisdom you already display and terribly worried, protective of my little boy, now growing tall and forceful and still possessing a loving, sensitive heart. And I am terribly aware of my own abdication, a word which, in time, may seem unfit and histrionic. Now I am the farthest from your upbringing that I have ever been, and this causes me unease at the same time that I know you are growing according to a common schedule, and that you are as well prepared as I have known a young person to be.
You have grown to take up influences not my own, and this has also been a challenge for me. I hope that in the year to come I find patience that you will find your own way, separate from me and (I say half-jokingly) especially those kids who say foolish things at your school. Now you have stepped onto a familiar track, though I see it from a new angle. I remember bringing home odd notions when I was a child. I marvel at the wisdom of your grandparents who did not react to my repetitions with the scorn I have sometimes shown yours. And I am trying to explore these thoughts with you more and more. I applaud your conviction, even when you seem confident of something you've heard which I know with complete certainty to be nonsense, and I am trying to help educate you rather than reject what you've heard out of hand. And then there are times when you come up with something or remember some detail that is true and I'm reminded that, with every step either clumsy or graceful or some mixture of each, you are making your way toward an understanding of the world. I am trying to encourage you in this. All your life you will hear that the world is an awful place, an illusion, full of hostility and hate and falsity and dissatisfaction. And it is these things and yet it is wonderful, full of truth to be found and to be made. And you're starting to understand this, and actively engaging in ways that some adults never try. I hope you keep your sense of curiosity. As for your sense of self amidst all the quacking of the world, my own included, I can only trust you to keep it, and guide you in small ways. My time of near-total power over you is well ended, if it ever existed.
This year I took a long time to write you, and I felt guilty for being distracted by work, by school, by your brother's birth, for this is a tradition I want to keep. I hope you do not fall to the same trap that has caught me from time to time and use delay as an excuse to give up. We talk about being discouraged and how you need to learn a certain amount of mental endurance, of conviction, of determination. Son, as I have told you in person I will say now here: I am learning this as much as you are. Happy (belated) birthday, my dear son.
This year you saw your mother's belly grow and, less than two weeks after you turned five, she gave birth to your younger brother. I wonder if I should have prepared you more for this at the same time as I think that there is no way that I could have prepared you.
I find myself caught between negotiating for a balance between all of us and trying to figure out what you need, or what your mother needs, or what I need. Already I see you, like me, move to frustration and anger. I desperately want you to come through this time, and I know you will. I am at once confident in the wisdom you already display and terribly worried, protective of my little boy, now growing tall and forceful and still possessing a loving, sensitive heart. And I am terribly aware of my own abdication, a word which, in time, may seem unfit and histrionic. Now I am the farthest from your upbringing that I have ever been, and this causes me unease at the same time that I know you are growing according to a common schedule, and that you are as well prepared as I have known a young person to be.
You have grown to take up influences not my own, and this has also been a challenge for me. I hope that in the year to come I find patience that you will find your own way, separate from me and (I say half-jokingly) especially those kids who say foolish things at your school. Now you have stepped onto a familiar track, though I see it from a new angle. I remember bringing home odd notions when I was a child. I marvel at the wisdom of your grandparents who did not react to my repetitions with the scorn I have sometimes shown yours. And I am trying to explore these thoughts with you more and more. I applaud your conviction, even when you seem confident of something you've heard which I know with complete certainty to be nonsense, and I am trying to help educate you rather than reject what you've heard out of hand. And then there are times when you come up with something or remember some detail that is true and I'm reminded that, with every step either clumsy or graceful or some mixture of each, you are making your way toward an understanding of the world. I am trying to encourage you in this. All your life you will hear that the world is an awful place, an illusion, full of hostility and hate and falsity and dissatisfaction. And it is these things and yet it is wonderful, full of truth to be found and to be made. And you're starting to understand this, and actively engaging in ways that some adults never try. I hope you keep your sense of curiosity. As for your sense of self amidst all the quacking of the world, my own included, I can only trust you to keep it, and guide you in small ways. My time of near-total power over you is well ended, if it ever existed.
This year I took a long time to write you, and I felt guilty for being distracted by work, by school, by your brother's birth, for this is a tradition I want to keep. I hope you do not fall to the same trap that has caught me from time to time and use delay as an excuse to give up. We talk about being discouraged and how you need to learn a certain amount of mental endurance, of conviction, of determination. Son, as I have told you in person I will say now here: I am learning this as much as you are. Happy (belated) birthday, my dear son.