One time when my son was a toddler, he accompanied me on a tour of an open house. Within minutes he found the fireplace. Awestruck he stared at the roaring flames and time slowed as I watched him stretch his small fingers toward the hot glass screen.

“Don’t touch,” I warned.

Guess what?

He touched it.

“Ouch!” he squealed and looked at me as if I’d divulged a top secret to him. I could see his little brain spinning. Oh she does know something. I kissed the boo-boo and I told him to never do that again. And he didn’t.

Fast-forward ten years.

He got stupider.

Together with his best friend, he decided that they were going to build a tree fort in the woods at the bottom of our neighborhood. They borrowed tools, rummaged for scrap wood, and planned their construction project.

IMG_1342“Don’t touch the poison ivy,” I warned. “Wash as soon as you get home.”

“Do I look like an idiot? I won’t touch poison ivy.” He rolled his eyes and huffed.

This is what he looked like twenty-four hours later.

After a massive dose of steroids, salt baths, sleepless nights, and scratched-open wounds, he conceded, “Mom, you were right. I shouldn’t have touched the poison ivy.”

Fast-forward another four years.

Now he’s as dumb as they come and he thinks I’m even dumber.

As we enter his seventeenth summer, the combination of warm nights and endless possibility makes for a dangerous, intoxicating cocktail. I wish through some sort of magical-telepathic-osmosis I could pour everything I know into him, along with a heavy dose of caution and forethought. But his hormones are raging, his friends have driver’s licenses, and his pre-frontal cortex is underdeveloped. The world is stretching out before him with no horizon in sight.

And I fear for his life.

But here’s what I’m going to do to try to keep this kid alive:

  1. Enlist help and communicate with other parents. It takes a village, right? I’m putting everyone on notice—I want to know all the bad stuff my kid is doing. (I can’t believe I just said that. I’m cringing already—don’t put in the blog comments, private message will suffice). Ignorance is bliss and my happy days are over. But if that’s what it takes—okay. I can’t police the situation if I don’t know what’s happening. Maybe him knowing that we’re all on the lookout will keep him and his friends on their best behavior.
  1. Talk to him. He barely speaks anymore. His music and social media are more important. But at bedtime, after his phone’s been put away and I am completely exhausted, he’ll sometimes turn chatty. I will get out of my comfortable bed, go to his room—I will talk—and hope something sticks. I’ll sneakily try to drill home my Don’t Do It List: do not chew tobacco, don’t drink alcohol, don’t get in a car with someone who’s been drinking, don’t do drugs, don’t have sex, once you get your license—don’t text and drive, don’t dive head first into he quarry lake, don’t forget to wear your seatbelt. Don’t. Don’t. Don’t. But if you do something stupid, do, do, do know I’m your mom and I’ll always help you.
  1. Keep Sunday dinners together a top priority. Once a week no matter how busy, I’m going to invite my parents over to have dinner with us—three generations sorting it out, helping each other, connecting, creating tradition—and grounding us in love.

With each stage of motherhood a new challenge arises. I wish saying, “Don’t touch!” was enough to keep my son safe, to ensure that he doesn’t do anything so stupid as to impact life or limb. My daughter says we just need to get him through high school and college and then everything will be fine because she promises she will never ever be as stupid as her brother.

Anybody taking bets?

 ***

Here’s an idea for Sunday Dinner:

(Fine Cooking Magazine, May 2002, p. 49)

IMG_8383Step 1: Saute

1.5 tbs unsalted butter

1 leek, sliced in half & very thinly sliced crosswise

6 oz boneless, skinless chicken breast, cut into think strips

½ Granny Smith apple, peeled, cored, & thinly sliced

 

Step 2: Flavor

1 tsp. fresh tarragon, chopped

¼ cup brandy

1/3 cup chicken broth

 

Step 3: Enrich

2/3 cup heavy cream

 

Step 4: Toss

8oz dried rigatoni, cooked & drained

½ cup finely shredded Gruyere or Emmental cheese

Serve & enjoy! 

Thought For The Week:

Youth would be an ideal state if it came a little later in life.

Herbert Henry Asquithz

What’s the dumbest thing you ever did as a kid?

***

Thanks for reading! The first Sunday of the Month I post a new blog. Sign up HERE to follow. Plus, I always give an update on the release of my novel What The Valley Knows (January 25, 2018).

xoxo,
Heather

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