I have a lump in my throat and my heart hurts a little.
But I came to a realization a few moments ago that has got me spinning (and I DEFINITELY don't mean the exercise class).
MY OLDEST SON IS JUST LIKE ME.
And I am so sad about it.
OK. Here's what I mean.
First of all, you look at my 2 year old and he is me, only 37 years younger, a small child and a boy. He has my eyes, (only, I missed out on the mile long lashes) and my coloring. (poor child will be investing in SPF's) The blonde hair could be a phase, but I have a feeling he will not have to pay to have his hair high-lighted like his mommy's. He looks like me and I will say this with sincere humility, he's beautiful. So when I look at that face when he is frustrated, sad or angry, I absolutely see me staring me in the face.
I have never had an understanding of some simple things in life. Things like the shortest and most direct path is usually the best route, it is necessary to read the fine print, and adding a throw pillow can brighten up a room. I get frustrated with technology and want to scream when putting something together from IKEA. It's a very immature frustration that I experience. I want to throw things and stomp my feet. I don't like to do things I don't know how to do which means I don't do much. This condition is beginning to show up in my son.
He talks to inanimate objects. Not like his cars or stuffed animals where the occasional conversation is warranted, but his blocks and legos and if they don't do what he asks them to do ("you stay right here. don't fall down"), he will throw them and stomp away, destroying his castle/tower/high rise. He will get mad at drawers and yell at the refrigerator. These things just aren't doing what he wants them to do. And I think he knows that he is in control of them so that means HE CAN'T MAKE THEM WORK. This is how I feel. I am unable to make "things" work for my benefit. I have often wondered if everyone else was given an "how to" manual at birth and I was somehow forgotten. I have to ask for help ALL OF THE TIME and it is so crushing to my precious ego.
Unlike me, my son is very proficient on the computer. It's quite scary, actually, how good he is. But if he comes across a new game or something where he is not "getting it" right away and I ask him if I can help, he will promptly say, "no, I do it myself," fighting back tears. Within a few seconds, he will tap the Mac mouse with his pointer finger in frustration and we have to walk away from the computer and distract with a game of baseball. Who am I kidding?
Earlier today, we were playing T-Ball with a new plastic T-Ball set. My number one son in his Pull-Up was quite excited about his new toy. Thank God, I did not have to assemble anything as this would soar me into a high blood pressure and sweat situation. One piece into the other and done. I chatted with him about how important it was to look both in front and behind of ourselves when we are going to swing a bat (he had already injured his brother this morning. I wasn't in the mood for more) and to keep our eye on the ball. Now, I think anyone in my family that is reading this is already laughing. I do not play sports. I can not play sports. I LOVE them, but wow, I am not athletic. The equivalent of a dog buying lipstick, just not happening. But I have a secret hope that my son excels at them. I want that for him because I was so horrific at anything that had a ball needing to go through, go in, or go over a net, that I avoided parties and recess playtime to divert attention from my lack of coordination. I don't want that for my boys. I want them to be able to PLAY.
Conley showed no interest in his T-ball set. He didn't want to know how to hit the ball (and that fact that I was trying to instruct him was somewhat humorous.) He liked swinging the bat. He liked swinging the bat dangerously close to his brother's head. He would set the ball on the tee and swing, ignoring the "hit the ball" concept. Now, he's 2! I get this. But, as I watched him make up his own rules to his new game, I wondered if he was going to be like me. The second I saw that I wasn't going to be good at something, I quit. Sports, honors classes, computers, relationships, art, music...Is he fated to that mentality? Will he not want to practice for fear of being seen as "learning" and not an expert??
I see that insecurity creeping up in him and as many times as I tell him how strong, smart and sensational he is, I can't help but feel he may have a delicate ego and a crushing voice inside of him that tells him he can't do it, whatever "it" is.
I can't even explain how painful this is for me. My minuscule self esteem was the ache of my entire adolescence and when I carried it into adulthood, it grayed my opportunities. And the one thing I wanted to not be passed in the DNA was this frail, precious ego and its partner, insidious insecurity. Has it already happened?
And then, there's number 2 son. He is the exact opposite. The child can't speak or walk yet and you can already tell that he is just going to bulldoze his way though life. He will point at an object and grunt or scream until he gets it. He crawls so fast, he looks like one of the NYC cockroaches, making a run for it. He is completely focused and determined with every move. Funny enough, he looks exactly like my husband.
My husband.
A man who lives on the opposite spectrum of insecurity. He KNOWS if he tries something, he will succeed. He could see the route to a touchdown when he was passed the ball and the basketball hoop was more like a hula hoop when he took a shot. He could get A's in his sleep and got into a major MBA program while sleeping through the GMAT. He is the water to my oil.
And Thank God for this! Whatever insecurity I passed along, Daniel is responsible for their confidence. He just seems to look at life with an "I got this" attitude. Holden is absolutely riding the same train. There is no slide he can't climb or ball he can't throw. He is mad when you don't give him utensils with his food because he has already mastered them. He is 14 months. Now, he's not walking yet, but apparently, that's my fault because I didn't walk until I was 16 months. I'm almost grateful because he'll walk himself right down to 44th and Park and get himself a job as soon as those feet get moving. He's a Leo and so full of himself, my little actor (wait, that's something else I passed down...) I just don't think I'm going to have to worry about him. Conley, my fair angel, I'm not so sure...
I know that I was just a vehicle for these monkeys to come into the world and that I am not responsible for the curriculum they came here to learn, but it's hard not to want to protect them from anything that might cause them the slightest bit of pain. Especially when the enemy may be the one inside their head.
I just have to trust that they will learn from both parents the art of life, the brush strokes of love and adventure. That our example will fill them with hope and security. That's my prayer, anyway.
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