Lessons for My Son

Lessons for My Son

Sometimes, he escapes me, the boy who has grown taller than I, fourteen years old and full of his own ideas of how the world should turn. He asks hard questions, not just matters of math and literature, but confounding inquiries like, “Just what have you ever taught me?” I struggled with that one, tossed to me as we waited in line at the grocery.

What, indeed, have I taught him?

My first response was sarcasm, a lame and useless retort about how I had obviously taught him nothing. It felt raw and full of hurt, not what I really wanted to say. Having reflected on it, though, I think I have a better answer. I think that sharing it here might somehow remind all of us what moms do teach their children.

I taught you when you were very small to love and learn from the dog. Your first dog, Winnie, groomed you well in matters of loyalty, laughter and appreciating the great outdoors. She and I both taught you that dog food is just for dogs.

I taught you, as has your dad, to love willingly and fully, to show compassion for others and that kindness is, more often than not, reciprocated. I taught you that cartoons are worth every minute you spend laughing at them and that the philosophy of Calvin and Hobbes should rank right up there with Aristotle and the Dalai Lama. I taught you that a sense of humor, whether silly or dry, could be both your most effective weapon and your greatest defense.

I taught you that humility rewards us with character and grace, and that our faith is what sustains us. I taught you that anger is a drain on your energy and depletes your desire to form truly spectacular and lasting relationships. I taught you that regrets are those things we wish we had done, but didn’t. I taught you to try to have no regrets.

When you were just starting school, I taught you about seeing the big picture, that it is not the end of the world to land a bad grade. Making mistakes is what life is really all about, but it is our duty to try not to repeat them. I taught you that mom and dad won’t, can’t and shouldn’t teach you everything. That is not our job. I taught you that everyone, even old mom, knows a few things that warrant your understanding. Along with your dad, I taught you that being a good listener is the first step to learning anything.

If you recall, I was the one who taught you to sing your first songs and write your first rhyme. Remember Bimbo? I taught you that not everyone is an artist, and that stick figures are woefully underrated. I taught you how to bake cookies and that women love a man who is comfortable in the kitchen, especially one who knows how to load the dishwasher and mop the floor.

What have I ever taught you, child of mine? I have taught you that you should never stop learning, no matter how tired or old or sick you get. I have taught you that even when you pour your heart into something, it doesn’t guarantee success or just rewards. It does help prevent those nasty regrets, though. I have taught you, or am trying to do so, that “I’m sorry” and “I forgive you” can work better than WD-40 and duct tape at fixing things.

I know that when you and your sister have seen me for years as part of the furniture, a writer mom whose greatest joys arrived 12 and 14 years ago, it is difficult for a boy your age to remember that I graduated college and worked for many years at things that even you would find complicated and technical, challenging and important.

One day, your son or daughter will ask, “Just what did you ever teach me?” And if I have taught you as I think I have, in partnership with your dad, you will be able to answer as I have, with absolutely no regrets.