3 years ago
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Last night MTL was teasing me and I was teasing back in a faux-pouty sort of way, when he suddenly pulled back, looked at me askance, and said, Uh, hello there, DramaBoy!
Apparently I was using the exact facial expression, exact words, exact look as the sort that DramaBoy pulls out from time to time.
There's a reason I call him my mini-me. It's not just his physical appearance, though that alone causes commentary everywhere we go. Our temperaments are nearly identical (thus the fulfillment of my mother's curse) (have I apologized lately, Mom and Dad? I AM SO SORRY) and the source of many of our conflicts. Odd how two strong-willed, quick-tempered, ridiculously stubborn people will spark off each other.
I will say this: his eyes are no longer purely mine. They used to be. Now, while they're still hazel, they've become brown-hazel rather than green-grey-hazel. They've become much more like his father's over the last year or so. Still, when I look into his eyes--I see myself.
And it scares the sh*t out of me.
You see, I was broken for so very, very long. I was tormented by my dragons for nearly thirty years, and I lost the battles until I forgot how to fight. And while there were outside forces and trauma that I experienced that I pray God will never be part of DramaBoy's life, still I wonder how much of my life was simply the path I took as the person I am.
And I can't (and won't) "blame" my parents. No parents are perfect, but to this day I place no blame on mine for the broken road I traveled. They were and are amazing people, amazing parents. MTL is already starting to get a certain smile when I reference them, because I do it so very often. We don't agree on everything, my parents and I, but I respect them deeply.
So what does that mean for me? I struggle every day with parenting practice. I feel like I'm trying to catch up from years of being out of touch, correct countless bad habits (both mine and the children's), and piece together the puzzle that is parenting. MTL helps. He's been doing this longer than I have, including the single parenting gig. But ultimately he can't and won't tell me what decisions I must make for my children.
What if it's too late? What if my son is already heading down a path similar to the one I trod? For all the love and growth and beauty that has come to me at this point in the road, I would never ever wish that journey for my son. I would never desire for him the pain and despair and brokenness I experienced.
I can't live his life for him. I can't protect him from all harm. But I cannot help but feel tremendous fear.
Because when I look into his eyes...
All I can see is that broken road.