There’s Something About “10”
I snapped this photo on our recent trip home from our February school break. I captioned it “A boy and his bear.” I also think it could simply be titled “Time.”
As in, please give me more of it.
Catch him! Stop the thief that has stretched those little boy’s legs and broadened those baby shoulders so a nubby cream-colored bear, which used to dwarf the boy who dragged him across the floor, can now squarely sit on his perch like my son was the papa bear himself. My son’s bear’s rump mocking me, saying, “I’ll probably get to go to college with him, but you won’t, and it’s coming FAST.”
I quickly snapped myself out of my temporary parental pity party on the jet bridge (nothing good comes from that) and said to myself: We are approaching “10.” This is not 17. He’s healthy. He’s happy. He still listens, and he seems to like having us around. Still, there’s something about the decision to hoist the bear on his shoulders that was so touching to me. He’s the boy who also very much wants his independence, unafraid to show who his favorite travel partner really is - and that it happens to be ... stuffed. An admission that for the moment, footie pajamas and fuzzy paws still take up space in his world; and that also means, so does the need for his mom and dad.
I’ll take it. And I’ll also take the reality of what the measure of “10” means for ME.
Me and my kids recently ran into our friend Patti, from our old neighborhood. We were having coffee and donuts between church services (a story for another time) when we saw her walking over. Patti used to work the front desk at the YMCA and she remembers when I brought my son in for “mommy and me” swim classes before he could even walk. “Wow!” Patti said, hearing Del was turning 10 in a week. “Double digits!!!! Whoa. That’s amazing.” I said, longingly, “Yes, Patti, can you believe it. Oh my gosh, double digits.”
But then Patti looked me squarely in the eye and said, “You know, this is a huge deal ... for YOU. I mean, think about where YOU were, Mom. He’s celebrating 10 years. A decade. Think about how much YOU’ve grown and changed in that time. That’s really something.”
I had to stop and let that sink in. In fact, it hit me like a ton of bricks. The good kind. It made me think of my own mother who on HER birthday, sends flowers to my grandmother to thank her for bringing her into the world.
It made me think about exactly where I was 10 years ago. Getting ready to have our first baby. TERRIFIED that taking off 10 weeks from work was way too much time. Worried I wouldn’t be perceived as dedicated to the job. I was sure I’d want to go back early, but I couldn’t have been more wrong. Once my son arrived 10 days into the month of March, I remember feeling ill-prepared for what the lack of sleep really feels like but moreso being overwhelmed by the love and desire to protect and be with this new baby boy at all costs.
Ten years later, that feeling hasn’t gone away, but it’s now accompanied with gratitude for what this confident, fun-loving 10-year-old has taught ME.
Here are a few ways I’ve grown 10 years in: (It began when I was headed back to work for the first time. My first assignment was hosting the Indy 500, and for that I feel so lucky.)
From that first year, he has helped me understand myself better as a working mom. Having kids has helped me define what jobs I would move mountains for the chance to do and which things don’t make sense because of the time away.
I’m better at setting boundaries that are necessary and helpful; and, as someone who struggles with the notion of letting people down, I’ve learned how to accept I’m capable of doing it in a way that preserves my peace without feeling I’ve let others down.
I now more than ever realize what a rock star my own mother was and is. She cultivated magic anywhere she could. Her WOO and effort to let us explore and lean into the wonder of different things growing up highlighted the importance of letting yourself be moved and shocked and the importance of belief in all things - magic or your own ability to dream big.
I’ve realized how important the people in my life are. Not just family, but people who make up your everyday; your work, your community, the unexpected human connections put in our paths. Growing through motherhood and just good old aging has taught me part of the journey is very much IN those relationships. Like Willy Wonka’s late mother said in Wonka, “The secret is, It’s not the chocolate that matters, it’s the people you share it with.”
Right now, I’m grateful to be sharing it with a boy and his bear.
