I speak your language

Yanno, sometimes it's really hard being a parent. I'm not scared of much, but one of my biggest fears is screwing my children up. We all have at least one positive or negative thing that our parents have said or done to us. That one thing that will outlast eternity. That one thing that we will carry in our hearts forever. The one thing that I remember my dad telling me - "Always wrestle the bear." Meaning, "no regrets."

So what is it that I will say to my children that they will carry? What example am I setting. That freaks me out. I say a lot of crazy things. I do a lot of crazy things.

I left their father. It wasn't easy. That example weighed on my heart very heavily. Honestly, over the years I remember at least 4 very specific times that I almost left. I'm talking hand on the door knob, just steps from the car. There were two things that stopped me: #1 I can't take the kids away from their father. What damage would that do? #2 I cannot survive on my own as a single mother. Well, #2 I accomplished. Over the years I did what needed done to be independant.

#1 however, took a little longer to come to terms with. What was finally the straw that broke the camels back:
1)If the STBX was verbally abusive to me, what made me think that he was not verbally abusive to them.
2)If I continue to allow the STBX to treat me this way, if I stay, I am setting that same example for my children. I am basically telling them that their feelings and their lives are not valid either. Take it with sugar honey, it tastes better. Go ahead, choke it down it's just poison.
3)My children deserve two happy parents. Granted, I would have liked that their parents could co-parent in the same household, but it's not going to happen that way.
4)My children need to see an example of a strong woman. A woman who stands up and says "No." Not a woman who endures and melts under pressure. Not a broken woman. My children need to know how to treat other people, how to be sensitive to other's feelings.
Hopefully those are the examples my children will eventually see from me. They will not feel sorry for me. They will be proud of me. And from me they will gain a strong sense of individualty.

This weekend my oldest son and I were being crazy and throwing out crazy slang. We have our own secret hand shake. We call each other "Dude" and "Dawg". We have a lot of fun. We speak each others language. We laugh a lot. In order to talk to a fifth grader, you must be on the same level as a fifth grader. It opens the door for more in-depth heart to heart conversations. It gives the sense of safety and honesty is shared.

I regretfully inform you that my fifth grader is now interested in girls. This is the hard part about being a parent. This is where you want them to make good decisions and hope that you have taught them well. Frankly, I don't want him to be interested in girls. I want him to be interested in cars, and bugs, and music, and video games. Forget the girls.

How we got on the subject went something like this:
IB) "Mom, what time will we be home?"
ME) "Why, do you have a hot date?" - my response to all the times asked "when will we be there" or "how long will this take?"
IB) "Who says it's just ONE hot date?"
ME) In shock in awe. Can barely speak. "Whoa. Slow down Casanova."
Casual chitter chatter about girls...
ME) "It's okay not to have a girlfriend" - Reality hitting me hard here. Seeing my own reflection.
IB) "No it's not."
ME) "Sure it is. Look at me, I don't have a boyfriend."
IB) "What about the UPS guy?"
ME) "That was just ONE date. He's not my boyfriend."
IB) "Well you have dad."
ME) "UM...ah, uh, no. No I don't have daddy." Shudder, gag.
IB) Quickly realizes that I indeed do not have daddy. Daddy has replaced me with "a new friend."
End of conversation. Change the subject quick.

What I really fear, and I'm just going to say it and please don't take this the wrong way, is that his father has given him a bad example. His father hasn't been single at all. He jumped from our marriage to another "serious" relationship in the matter of a month. No individuality. Sure, I could've made that same mistake. But I didn't and now I know why. It's not that I don't want my children to realize the beauty of love or being in love. I'm not against that. I just don't want them to make the same mistakes I did. But I realize, I can only do so much.

Maybe I'm over-reacting here. Maybe it's just a simple case of the normal fifth grader starting to like the girls he's been in class with for six years now. Gawd, I hope. I guess that as long as I speak the same language and keep myself in check, then we might just be okay.