Where Does a Mom Go To Cry? {Or, Help! What Am I Doing Wrong?}

You’ve heard the comparison between making pancakes and

raising kids?  With the pancakes, you burn the first one

and throw it away.

All the rest turn out perfect.

Of our three children, our first one fit that analogy.

Except we would never have done anything so unkind as to throw him away.

But I will confess, the thought of lending him out to someone

else entered my mind several times a month.

He was a beautiful baby!  Matthew John Timmers came out of my body

with a chunky one of his own, at over nine pounds.  His head

was covered with dark curly hair.  His pink and white complexion

made him look the prettiest in the pink nightgown

that came with the layette we bought for him.

He was so good looking and extremely sure of himself.

In other words, he was what psychologists would call strong-willed.

By the time his younger sister and brother came along,

his strong will had developed completely.  He had an agenda of his own

for trying to run our family, including testing the rules daily.

As in every day.

Testing whether or not he should pick up his toys, whether or

not he should come in the house now; whether or not to be kind

to his younger brother.  Usually his response was “no” to all of the above.

As a baby, Matt was never cuddly unless he was sick.

Nothing soft and gentle.

As he got older, he would ride his Big Wheel down the driveway

and use his shoes and knees to brake.

Whatever outfit I put on him five minutes later was disheveled and in disarray.

It made me look like a mom who hadn’t read the manual  on how

to dress your kid.

The biggest burden of raising a strong-willed child is the constant,

never ending testing of the rules.

It was exhausting.

Being his mom, I understood that this was his way of asking for security.

But being up for a fight every day gets wearing.  It’s hard to do

housework with boxing gloves on.  And during PMS time,

watch out, because he got a fight whether  or not he asked for one.

All my friends seemed to have perfect overachieving firstborn children.

According to their mothers, everything these kids touched turned to gold.

Straight A’s came magically, their rooms were never messy, and they

treated their siblings with kindness and affection.

Where had I gone wrong?

Why didn’t we get that perfect firstborn?

One day, when Matt was in the ninth grade (Yes, we’d made it this far!) I was

on my hands and knees scrubbing the kitchen floor.  Besides being a humble

position, it was a good place to think.

As I scrubbed, my thoughts and feeling about Matt

flooded over me.

Junior High had turned out to be even more challenging than

his early years.

Where had we  gone wrong?  Why was he so difficult?

Would he ever turn out to be a decent upstanding adult,

or would he be running the streets naked?

Next came the wave of profound sadness that stopped everything.

I looked over at my bucket filled with water and began to cry.

Why not, when that  bucket seemed to represent all the tears I should have

cried as a mother of a difficult child.  My anger had

finally turned to sorrow.

As my tears fell, a small voice in my head began to say

“He’ll be all right.  He’ll be okay”

But this voice wasn’t audible.

It was that still small voice that  some people know

belongs to God. (I’m one of those people.)

I dried my eyes, put a happy smile on my face–are you kidding?

Nix the part about the smile.

I finished my floor with the rest of my tears in my bucket.

I can now tell you the Good News. Ready?

With a somewhat rocky start that became a time of realization

for Matt, he went on to obtain a degree in Construction Management.

He got good grades, his handwriting went from illegible

to a beautiful architect’s printing.

After college, he went on to get a job with a major road

construction  company using his now well-honed math skills daily.

He enjoys reading magazines such as Engineering News-Record,

and Roads and Bridges.

In addition, Matt is a handsome man, married to a beautiful NORMAL

woman.  They have two children, and Matt is a great dad.

Two years ago Matt was made vice president of his company.

As for that bucket of tears?  I will never forget that day,

and the assurance the still small voice gave me and the

enormous pride my son brings to my life now.

And by the way, he still looks good in pink and is

man enough to wear it.

Here’s to raising kids with hope,

Nana Mary