Growing Up Big

John is watching Top Gun next to me on the iPad while I write.  I'm embarrassed to say the the second I heard--didn't see--heard the credits, I said, Hey, are you watching Top Gun?

He looked at me with his jaw dropped and said, "You know this is Top Gun from listening to seven seconds of credit music?"

"Oh, yeah," I said, "Do you know how many times my sisters watched this?  Favorite movie in our house!"

I know this movie almost by heart . . . 

Favorite line: "Goose, you big stud!  Take me to bed or lose me forever . . . " (why?  I have no idea . . . I think it's because I love Meg Ryan)

Favorite scene: Anything with Ice Man (Val Kilmer) in it.

What we all thought (and agreed on):  Kelly McGillis is not cute enough to be with Tom.

Oh, how I loved these movies.  LOVED them.  Some Kind of Wonder (first time someone held my hand), Benny and June (when Barbara went from sisters to friends), Strictly Ballroom (oh sigh sigh), French Kiss (pretty much my favorite movie ever--I will see the Eiffel Tower), Raising Arizona (best ending ever!), and Truly, Madly Deeply (changed my life).  Sooo good!  If you haven't seen any of them . . . watch them!  If you have, watch them again. They're awesome . . . 

And this suddenly totally dates me doesn't it?  I feel dated today.  I looked in the mirror today and thought, Oh, yeah, I am seeing those almost 41 years on this face of mine. My eye wrinkles are insane when I smile, like a craggy map of a lines going every which way, but I sort of like them (sort of being the optimal term--some days, not so much).  They've been carved in by years of smiles, right?  And they're deep, so it means I've smiled quite a bit, right?  Not so bad a way to get wrinkles, right?  RIGHT?! 

I also know I'm old because this morning as I was listening to my friends who have younger teenagers.

They are making them CRAZY and they're lost and have no idea how to help them/direct them/teach them.  I feel for them.  I know just how they're feeling, but I know that TRY AS YOU MIGHT, there is no right way or easy answers.  There's just going through and they will pretty much suck the life out of you and make your hair turn gray (true story, lots) and you will cry until you have a migraine.  And then you'll get up after not sleeping because you're worried sick and do it all again.  They won't listen, they'll probably lie, ditch school, and come home really late.  They're like toddlers with license and raging hormones.  It's honestly the most horrific thing in the world because your sweet good darling obedient (in some cases)  good student thoughtful child as decided to go independent.

Ug.

And that's when you heart fills up all over again with the greatest deepest love you'll ever feel.  You see where they're going WAY wrong and no matter what way or how many times you tell them, they're not going to listen because they've got to pave their own course.  They need to find their own trail and become themselves.

One, by one, they're snipping--sometimes carefully and sometimes in great bunches--the cords of our apron strings and it stinking KILLS!

On one particularly sleepless night with Henry, I just went down and sat by him and watched him sleep and just cried.  He was so big.  He filled up the whole bed and his hair was all thick and big and he had a beard thing growing and he looked much more like a man than my baby boy.  He's not mine anymore, I thought.  He's not mine.  He's his own self.  

And I cried and cried really quietly but he woke  up anyways and said, 'Mom, whats going on?'

I moved a little closer and stroked his hair a little bit and said, "I just love you so much.  I love you til my heart breaks a little and I just want good things for you.  I'm so sorry we're so hard on you.  We don't know what we're doing.  We're kids at this too.  Just trying to figure out how to help you not die and just graduate . . . You are our first thought in the morning and last thought at night.  Oh, Hen . . . "

And he just let me cry as I stroked his head and he said, "Mom, I'm going to be ok.  You know that right?  I'm not stupid, I just don't do things the way you and Dad do.  I'm me and I don't care about school or stuff like that.  I care about doing tricks and work and hiking and sleeping in hammocks.  I'm sorry I'm not like you.  I'm sorry I'm not what you want."

And then we cried a little bit together.

I realized that he was never going to be or do all the things I dreamed of and pushed him to be.

And that hurts.  I know, it's so stupid, but we have these big dreams for our kids and then we realize, oh, yeah, I guess that's MY dream, not theirs.  I guess they get to have dreams too, huh?  And I might not like those dreams, but I'm not them and I don't get to choose their dreams . . . they do.

And I want them to (I think . . . in theory?).

That's what I've really been doing, these past 18 years, right?  Asking him to figure out what he likes and loves and wants to be?

But we weren't letting him be anything but what we thought he should be.  

Yep, one of those great moments where you realize that you were actually your child's worst problem and perhaps their biggest bully.

Yeah, great great moment.

That's when I hugged that boy really really hard and let go (well, started to let go) of MY dreams for him, and told him, "Oh, Hen, you are so much more than we ever hoped you'd be.  You're so good to your little brother and sisters.  You love them like crazy and they know it.  They glow from it.  And you always help me whenever I need it.  You always know when someone needs a hug.  You are respectful to everyone and you are kind.  You are a good good boy.  I love you and I am so proud of you.  Forever."

And then I patted his head one last time and went back up to my bed and for the first time in a loooooong time, I fell asleep and slept peacefully.

Since that night, I changed (or began to change).  

I began to trust him (a little bit at a time).  

I mean, I still went hoarse a few times from screaming at him (failing Calculous--yeah, not a great moment in my life; or forgetting to recharge his phone and coming home two hours late from a trip to Bountiful--again, not so good) , but over all, we all stopped looking at where we were failing each other and looking a bit more (VERY VERY SLOWLY) at where we were making each other proud.

Because more than anything else in this world or the next, I want these babies of mine to know I love them.

Does that mean they don't have to be good and kind and helpful and respectful and obedient?  Heck no!  But I think I'm beginning to understand it does me that they can have different goals, dreams and aspirations than me.

And that's ok.

They're making their way.

They're figuring out what movies they'll love the rest of their lives.

They're carving lines into their faces that I hope are from smiling too much and finding joy in life from following their dreams.  My biggest job, it turns out, isn't giving my kids their dreams, it's helping make them come true.

So dream big, my kiddos, because I am!  And don't worry, I'll give you a ton of suggestions along the way.  I can't help it, I'm your mama.