Chicks Fledge Regardless

Being a parent is hard.  Not just the sleepless nights and terrible twos.  Not the painful adolescence or awkward teen years.  Those are horrible, but nothing compares to seeing your child in pain.  I'm not talking about scraped knees or bloody noses.  It's the letting them go, allowing them to make potentially bad choices-- within reason-- to let them learn and grow.

When my daughter moved out at 17, I had concerns.  But I also had hope.  She was mature and responsible.  "We had raised her that way", I say, thumping my chest.  Okay, not quite, but there is a certain sense of accomplishment when your child does well.  And a sense of self-doubt when they falter.  Overall, she is doing well.  Perhaps even thriving.  But her success is not mine, just as her failures aren't.

My son has yet to fledge.  He sits, perched, upon the edge of the nest.  Until now, he's been content to just let his foot dangle over the edge while being securely nestled in the nest.  Now he wants out.  He stands on the rim, longing to spread his wings and soar way above where we can see.  This is scary, to him (not that he would admit it) and to me.

You see, it feels like I have more invested in him.  Now don't go getting all up-in-arms about loving your children "equally" and "treating them all the same".  That's not what this is about.  I do love my children equally.  She is my favorite daughter, and he is my favorite son.  But any parent who tells you they treat their children exactly the same is lying right to you face.  My children are individuals and, as such, must be treated differently.  I'm not talking about favoritism, and now I've hopped down a rather curvy bunny trail.  

Back to my point.  I had one such gut wrenching experience today as my son took another lurch toward the edge of the nest.  He bought a motorcycle.  That's not the horrible part.  That came when it didn't all turn out like he hoped.  It's nothing that can't be resolved (I hope).  It just broke my heart to see him struggling with the thought that he might have made the wrong decision.  And it angered me to think someone may have taken advantage of him.  That person is not someone you want to be, believe me.

I coached him through the steps he needed to take, even though he tried his best to get me to do it for him.  I took the steps beyond what he was able.  Then, when I got a chance to breathe, I began to question myself. Had I let him down or ill-prepared him for this situation?  No, not at all.  But it didn't make it hurt any less. You see, growing up isn't easy.  Not for the child, and not for the parent.  It gives me a whole new appreciation for what my parents must have experienced.

Tomorrow is another day, and he is one step closer.  Soon he, too, will soar. Just like his sister. And I will once again thump my chest with pride.