Last week my son made me cry. One sentence, spoken in jest. A teenager taking a chance at pointed humor. It hit hard, I blinked back tears and left the kitchen. A whole flight of stairs and a retreat to my bed didn’t save me from feeling bad.
OK. It was the second time he had made me cry, but the first time he won’t remember and it really doesn’t count. He was only a baby. After he had learned to stand – but not steadily! – I was holding him on my lap facing outwards and as he bucked his head flew backwards he cracked his head right into my lip. Much blood, substantially more tears.
Last week he was standing steadily in our kitchen. We had just finished a meal as a family. We were all joking around, and I was going down the list of things to still accomplish that evening. I had seen from the outset that the week we were standing in was going to be a bear. I had planned just about every waking moment and could easily, through my years of event planning and project management, stack the tasks in such a way that no duplicate effort would have to take place. For four people, over six days. I had experience behind me.
Personal objectives, professional challenges, HR meetings, details to finalize for a fundraiser for a treasured charity, preparations for the first floor of our home to be on tour, the yard and garden to make presentable for those who decided to tour, two dozen desserts to make. The list was endless, and I had made it so.
I was partway through that evening’s litany – one phrase included the statement, “we don’t have a lot of time this week” – when he said something along the lines of, “Yeah. That’s a lot, but I only have one summer to be seventeen.”
Silence.
He was right. I had crammed so much into a week in preparation for the busy weekend that I had forgotten what was important. A touch of fun. A relaxed schedule. Freedom. You know, summer. As a teenager lives it.
His comment slapped me hard. I welled up, mumbled something, and took off. I wasn’t wanting him to follow me and apologize, which he did later. I just wanted to be alone.
When he found me in my room, he quickly said he was sorry for making me cry. His voice betrayed his sadness. I never made eye contact with him but told him that I was OK and would be downstairs later. He accepted that quietly, stated again that he was sorry, stood there a while longer, tapped the bed with his hand and left the room.
We didn’t see each other much the next day due to his work schedule and mine. Time passed, and I stewed in the guilt of not ever really accepting his apology for making me cry.
Two days later, while the two of us were at breakfast alone, I told him I was sorry for upsetting him the other night but not for crying. I believed he needed to see my tears. He tried to apologize again, and I touched his arm and he stopped. I told him he had been correct. That time was flying by and that I had been – at that time – focused on things that were calling to be finished. I told him that the truth hurts sometimes.
To speak it and to hear it.
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You’re a great woman and a wonderful mom, Sloane.
Amy:
It was a week, I’ll tell ‘ya! Thank you for saying such nice things in your note. That thing about needing a helmet to get through life is understated …. rubber boots would be a nice addition!
– sloane
wow. This hits way too close to home for me – as I work at my “day” job – 14,16. 18 hour days and at the same time, try to find enough hours in the day to get my jewelry business off the ground, promote it, market it, design new pieces…and still try to eke out a few more hours to spend time with family and friends – and then there’s those pesky hours I have to sleep. its an impossible balancing act. Some friends recently told me they’ve stopped inviting me to things because I never say yes – I’m always working. That hurt – and yes, Sloane – I cried too. I’m glad you and your son are finding ways to enjoy his “summer of seventeen” – cherish it!
Elaine:
I had a grandmother that called it a “rich, full life”. I now know exactly what she meant and love every stinkin’ minute of it … tears and all!
Hang in there. It is so worth it.
-sloane
Great. Now I’m crying. You were born with the rubber boots and the helmet.
Take tomorrow off. I am being serious. I got this! Take that fine young man that knows the importance of keeping your word, helping others, being selfless and giving…because of you on a day of nothing but fun. You are always my rock. Let me know when I can be yours. I am tough…my sister said so.
Casey:
Now I’m crying! Last week is a long way away and we have had more fun since that night that we should be fine until he turns 18! Bingo with a drag queen, a party in the street, food from Town Topic, late night dinner at Cafe Trio for the Clinic. Dang …
I know you have my back … every single day.
xoxox
– sloane
I would have cried too. Mostly because he’s right. The summer you’re 17 is kind of the last one of your childhood. The next summer he’ll be getting ready to go to college and begin traveling his own journey.
when the hell did that kid get so damn smart?
good god, some body do something about that shit.
P. Claire:
Well, I don’t want to be to ballsy but you know the nut doesn’t fall far from the tree … so I guess I’ll clean this mess up myself!
xoxox
– sloane
Boy can I relate to this! I too have a seventeen year old son and as we were having his Senior portraits taken last night, I welled up good. Time moves way too quickly. We have to stop and take a breath and enjoy the time we have with those we love most!
Oh, Sloane, you are my hero. You have done more for EVERYONE in this city than anyone I know and are still the wonderful mother. You have raised an amazing child. The fact that he made you cry means that you, and he, are caring people and I love that about you.
Sloane, I loved this.
I keep finding myself running in and out to “check on” my teenage daughters (who honestly sleep until 1/2 my day is over) and then lie in bed wondering what happened to the day.
They do only have one summer to be 16 and 14. I need to embrace that, put stuff beside me that doesn’t really matter, and GET THEM OUT OF BED to enjoy the day with me.
Thank you. Tears are good. Feelings meant to be felt.
Erin:
Thank you for reading our blog posts and for lovin’ on this one. I will tell you, I am blessed with a child that has some place to be or some thing to do every day. I don’t think he would have it any other way! Gee, I wonder who raised him?????
Have a great summer and have a blast with your girls. To have those ages again would be super fun.
– sloane
Such a great story – about truth, love and time… A great reminder that I’ve also only got one summer to be 45. Heard a quote yesterday too “Happy endings are not reliable. Happy nows are.” Thanks for sharing your wonderful family with us all – indeed RFL! (rich.full.life)
Wow! I feel really busy, and I have poodles to love and take of. You are a star Sloane. Not to mention what you are teaching your family about being significant and what is important in what they will learn is a short life, but well lived.
Next time you go to HM, give me a call. And save a date in October to play bingo for Thank You Walt Disney (TYWD) : )
Beckie:
Thank you for reading our blogs. I am touched when people leave notes and comments. Truly.
Hamburger Mary’s …. here we come!
– sloane
Oh this is a good one, Sloane. A really good one. That’s a long time between one little boy cry & one nearly grown boy cry. You taught him well, those are your lessons he’s speaking aloud. You two just got that much closer. I can only hope for the same. Love you, friend. Going to go wipe my eyes.
xo
m
Margo:
Just reading your name made me cry! I realized right then that I miss seeing you….
You’re right. These kid things are just like a vegetable garden … you feed and water them and they grow into exactly what you want, which is exactly what you gave them!
I hope you and your “boys” are good. I drove by your old house here the other day and remembered what a magical place it was with you all in it.
xoxo
– sloane