Mothers and Sons: A snapshot of the growing years during an autumn walk

The other night, as I was getting ready to take our dogs for our nightly after dinner walk, my sister called to catch up. She has 3 young children ranging in age from 4-11 and as a full time working mom her nights are jam packed with tons of “must do” chores. I so remember those days. As often happens, our conversation was cut short by the sound of a crash and her 4-year-old son claiming it was not him. We laughed and said good-bye. As I walked down our driveway I saw a car parallel parking across the street. We do not live on a street where you would ever need to parallel park so I knew immediately this was someone practicing for their driving test. As I looked closer I so wished I had my camera with me. It was the epitome of a Norman Rockwell moment (I hope that my words do this justice). The young man behind the wheel was sitting up as straight as he possibly could, his eyes popping with concentration and intense focus. The mom sitting in the passenger seat literally hunched over, her hair covering her face and with her head practically in her hands. You could tell that she was probably doing this last minute practice after a day at work (she was still in business clothes) and after putting dinner on the table and was just completely exhausted but knowing that a “good mom” does this even if she is exhausted and frustrated. I wondered if my sons and I looked the same when they were getting ready to take their tests. I remember fearing for my life and them telling me to relax and how they hated driving with me. For some reason or other I made them nervous. Can you imagine?

As I turned the corner I notice it was almost dark. I could see the deer coming out of the woods by the pond and I caught a glimpse of what would be my last little brown bat siting of 2010 I suspect. Ahead of me by about 100 yards was a boy about 10-years-old on his skateboard. Next thing I know a minivan quickly turns the corner and comes to a screeching halt. The driver’s side window rolls down and even though I could not make out the words that are exchanged the look on the driver’s face spoke volumes! The boy very leisurely skateboards around the other side of the minivan to the passenger side; and then passes the car. The driver’s door open and out comes a very animated woman. With the car illuminated I can see 3 younger children in the back of the car eyes wide open watching this scene unfold. I could not hear what this mom was saying but can guess it went something like “Get your butt in this car NOW! NO you are NOT riding your skateboard home! Do you know what time it is? Do you know what time we eat dinner? WHERE have you been and why did you not tell me where you were? Did you ask MY permission? What are you doing out by yourself? Do you know what could happen? I do not care how old you are or that your friend’s parents let them do whatever. You are my son! ...” How could I so easily know what this mom was saying? I have had this very same conversation many times over the years. The boy reluctantly climbs into the minivan. As the mom walks back to the driver’s side the look on her face says so much- fear, relief, anger, exhaustion, frustration and angst (and probably so much more).

For the rest of my short walk I think about all of my children in these growing years but in particular my sons. How is a mom supposed to understand how the boy/man’s brain works? How is she supposed to let him know how much she loves him if they are not even speaking the same language? I think for many moms their daughters ARE their hearts and their sons hold their hearts. As your sons get older moms seem to have less and less in common with their sons and the conversations may seem more distant. If these boys only knew, I wonder, just wonder. As I turn the corner and head back home I see my old Chevy Suburban pulling into the drive way with my two older sons (part of the triplets) bouncing out of the truck and heading at the speed of light into the house with doors slamming behind them. Before I can even make it to the front door they are dashing out once again with a change of clothes in hand and left over pizza from the refrigerator precariously balancing on paper plates. And off they go….. I am guessing that I do not need to wait up (but I probably will anyway).