As I was making dinner tonight I asked my usual questions about Tate's day.
Me: Who did you play with at 2nd recess today?
Tate: Eli, Travis, Caleb, Ignacio, Nacho, Braxton
Me: What did y'all play?
Tate: Football. Touch football. It was so much fun.
I think the blood rushed out of my head. Football!!! My worst nightmare come true! Though I really enjoy the game of football, especially watching my Texans, in no way, shape or form do I want my child playing the game. Yes, I know him playing around with a bunch of friends is so different than playing on a team, so I know this is very ok, but still! I want him to hate it! To have no desire to even touch pigskin. I so don't want him to play football.
Just the other day I was driving by a fire station and the guys were outside washing the engine and I thought to myself...'What would I do if Tate decided he wanted to become a fireman?'
The idea that he would run into a burning building to save someone almost brought me to tears. And I am so eternally grateful to these men and women who do this on a daily basis. I thought "Are they nervous? Are they afraid? Do they call their wife or mom or husband on the way to each fire/incident?"
I cannot imagine how I would sleep at night knowing that each day could be my son's last because he was trying to save another. I simply cannot imagine. I so don't want him to become a fireman.
How do we let go and let our children live out their dreams? Especially when those dreams put them in harm's way? How do I let go and let Tate make life decisions that I know are unhealthy for him? How do I not worry when Tate makes a choice I know will bring heartache and sorrow to him and those he loves?
How do I feel pride in knowing my son is helping others while putting himself at great risk?
Even worse I think is knowing that if he does choose a profession or hobby that is dangerous that I will be home alone with my worry. I won't have someone here to hold my hand at night while I wait for that phone call saying "Hey Mom! I'm home now!" Even on those nights to come way too soon as a teen when he goes out and is late for curfew I will pace these floors alone in my fear, panic and anger.
But I've paced the floors alone with my sick 5 month old. I've faced fear and panic when he's had croup attacks that had us both in tears, and I've come out on the other side a stronger mother for it. I've worried and cried as I've raced to meet him at camp after an anaphylactic reaction, knowing that the ambulance is waiting only for me because there's no father who might have been closer in distance. And once there he and I sat in that ER together for 6 hours and came out happy and whole.
I can do this.
He's still not playing football.
2 comments:
Man alive, do I understand how you are feeling. I think every mother of a son does. My son is very nearly 20 now but I remember being terrified that he would do something dangerous and die daily. I can say that the fear doesn't fully go away but your confidence in what he is able to accomplish increases to the point that you worry a whole bunch less. I'm proud of the man my son has become, I know that he can do anything he puts his mind to and that he is able to weigh the risks vs. rewards logically.
I've honestly gone from wishing he wouldn't do anything dangerous to understanding that he needs to do some things *I* wouldn't want him to as part of the growing up process. The only thing I ask is that he NOT join the military. Because that would seriously break me.
Great ending, Jenn!
No good advice for the rest but, sigh, these kids and their desire to make their own decisions. Sigh.
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