I am starting high school tomorrow!
No, I'm not.
My son is.
And I am emotional and anxious.
I remember my ninth grade year as clear as day. I remember the
Benetton logo striped shirt I wore THREE too many times. I remember my
horrible perm. I remember walking through the hallways, seeing the
older boys I had a crush on -- the ones who didn't like me back.
I remember feeling uncertain where I fell socially.
Big shocker: I didn't feel super cool.
I don't think I was super cool.
Wait. Am I now super cool?!
(No need to answer!)
I think because my starting high school FEELS like yesterday, I am
feeling extra attached to my son and projecting. Just a bit.
My anxiety has to be his anxiety.
Of course I know what he is thinking and feeling!
I am his mother.
Here's the thing, I am his mother.
I am not my son. He is not me.
My jitters, my worry about what tomorrow may bring is mine.
It is not his.
Right. Get a grip.
Jacob is this incredible kid.
No, really, I swear. He is.
He's adorable to look at, sweet and so decent a human.
He's crazy bright -- way more diligent and disciplined in his studies than I was.
He is self aware and comfortable in his own not yet through puberty skin.
He's that kid -- the one who hands in his work FINISHED. and on time.
He's that kid -- the one who won't compromise who he to please anyone else.
I am still working on that part of me.
Tomorrow Jacob starts high school.
He will thrive -- with the normal teenage boy bumps along the way I am sure.
He will sleep tonight, get up tomorrow and go to high school with his
head held high.
And I will be nervous.
But that has to be my problem.
I am his mother.
And he is not me.