On the eve of my middle child’s eleventh birthday, I find myself devoting a good chunk of headspace contemplating…ok perseverating…on this conundrum that is parenting. With the demands of working from work and working from home, trying to raise three children, and trying to quasi-moderate homeschool for said children, such that they are at least reasonably literate and know just enough math to know that $750 is not an appropriate amount of taxes to pay, I fear that I get it wrong more days than I get it right. I know that I am not alone in that particular sentiment, as we all wade through the pandemic parenting, both racial and COVID, in solidarity. As if keeping them alive, fed, housed, and schooled were not enough, we are charged with trying to raise loving, grounded, emotionally intelligent, empathetic, anti-racist, socially conscious humans. Ideally, we are also supposed to be drinking enough water and getting some REM sleep, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves here people.
As I said, I know I get it wrong some days. But I suppose as parents all we can do is get up and try again the next day… try to model, in action, how we want our children to conduct themselves interpersonally and in the world. And while I am sure I will have more mom fails than I care to disclose, all I can do is pray I get it right just enough times to make it stick.
So on his last day of being ten, I renewed my vow to continue to get up each day and try and reiterated my hopes for him with the following words…
Dear Middle Child (yes, I used his real name in the actual letter),
I love you more than you will ever know. I realize that with our busy, chaotic lives, I do not tell you or show you enough. I also know it is hard being the middle child, bookended between a younger brother with medical needs and an older sister with her own journey. If it feels as if too much is expected of you some days, please know it comes from a place of good intent…because I believe in you. However, impact is more important than intent. So for the times when it feels like too much, I apologize. You are allowed to have your own journey, and know that I will always support you in that.
At eleven, I know your life is barely getting started, but I hope and pray you will always know how loved you are….even on your hardest days…especially on your hardest days. It will always be ok to feel your feelings and to share them. It does not matter if those are feelings of love, happiness, frustration, anger, or sadness. I pray you know you have the safety and space to feel, process, and share. As your mom, I cannot always fix it. But I can promise to be there to support you.
One of my absolute favorite things about you is your empathy. You have an amazing ability to sense pain in others. My favorite examples are when you asked Santa for insulin for Jai, and when you held my hand and comforted me when Ironman died and during my Les Mis ugly cry. And while I would not expect you to understand this at your age, just know that this ability is very special, and I pray it accompanies you throughout your life. I admit it will not always be easy possessing this attribute, but I promise, one day, it will be worth it.
My other hope for you is that you fully realize your gifts in this world and use them to help others. I know it has not always been easy for our family, and you have seen, firsthand, the sacrifices made for you to have the life you do. Please know that if I am vocal about this, it is in an effort to teach you how truly fortunate you are. That does not mean you cannot acknowledge when things are hard, imperfect, or unfair in your own life. You absolutely can. But I also pray you never lose sight of those less fortunate and those who are oppressed, and seek to leverage your place in this world to help others. In my heart I know you will, and I am proud of your growing awareness of social injustice and inequity in the world.
Remember always that action expresses priority, and love is a verb…as is justice.
I know that someday you will no longer want to sing Hamilton with me…or hug me no matter what (even when I am sweaty, post-workout)…or tell me all about your day (eagerly and loudly)…or fight to sit next to me in a restaurant or theater. But I am excited for what God and the universe have in store for you. Happy birthday and I love you now and always (I love you 3000).
Love,
Mom
The Least Interesting Thing 