We’ve been staying up until all hours, often working side by side.
On the couch. Or he’s on the couch and I’m in an adjoining room plopped in a chair, plugging away on my laptop. He watches me scowl in exasperation, shuffle through stacks of pages, then tap furiously on my keyboard for a long period of time.
“So how do you like it?” he asks. He’s referring to my project.
I’m startled that he’s initiating conversation, though I shouldn’t be. It’s been happening more often. The kid who didn’t talk? Now he does.
“It’s cool,” I say. “But frustrating. When you start something new, it’s a bit of a puzzle.”
“Does that suck?”
I smile.
“No. Actually, I enjoy it.”
Getting to know a parent, differently
Some of us run from our parents as fast and as far as we can get. We have our reasons. Some of us engage our parents as we ourselves mature, and roles begin to shift.
My son wants details. So I explain the nature of my tasks, and the years doing this sort of thing before. Why it’s analytical. Why it’s creative. We chat about jobs I managed before he was born, and some of it seems to come as news to him, which is news to me.
“Was it frustrating when you first began? Not knowing what you were doing?”
“More than anything, it was exciting.”
He goes quiet again, as I revisit images of a past that has served me well, and contemplate beginnings. Invariably, any beginning is charged with frustration, but we break through the walls, solve the puzzles, and hang in – to overcome obstacles, often in ourselves. I realize how much I am enjoying this project with its steep learning curve and long hours. How good it feels to be using my expertise. To be producing, providing, and expanding my knowledge.
Particle physics
I don’t know how to do wiring. It would be useful. I don’t know how to speak Italian. That would be useful, too, since Italy is in my “some day” plans and I want to know the language when I go.
I don’t know a thing about particle physics. And I wish I did, because my first-born does.
And he can talk about quarks, quantum theory, super colliders. And other things that are utterly foreign to me. He’ll come home at Thanksgiving and befuddle me with his German, converse with me in French, speak an incomprehensible sibling lingo to his brother, and then we’ll move on to physics.
I’ll attempt to follow.
I may zone out. I may stay interested. I may even learn something.
Models
It’s tiring to learn. And frustrating at first. As we get older, learning isn’t so much harder as it is different. I’ve tweaked the way I accomplish it, and I’m more patient with myself. I also exercise my brain by requiring myself to work it – daily.
My mother went back to school in her 60s, to learn Japanese. By her 70s, she was fluent. An impressive model by any standard.
As for my younger son, perhaps he was seeking a read on how I manage new subject matter, or the way I attack problem solving in a context other than parental. Is he projecting to his own future? I imagine he is.
Learning is a two way street
Perhaps my son was also taking a pulse to see how I’m doing in general, because things are good between us, because he’s talking and I’m listening, because I’m talking and not lecturing. Because we feel increasingly like a team. He’s thoughtful in new ways. He’s growing up.
I break the silence and say that the future needn’t be mapped out at 17. Mine was not, and the journey has been fascinating. I tell him to pursue what he loves now, to stay open to whatever comes, and to remember that he can change his mind – study anything, learn anything. Even particle physics.
And for that matter, so can I.
I love this post. I go back and forth with the excitement of my children growing up and becoming their own people and then the bittersweet need to take over and help them.
You really should be proud (and I am sure you are) of the men they are becoming. And good for him for asking. No matter his intent.
It is bittersweet – but mostly, sweet.
I really like this post. I like the idea of having a dialogue with your son and exchanging ideas. I think it is so neat and I hope to have those conversations with my own someday.
Those are the parental nuggets I wish to impart to my children. I love being able to talk to my child in adult terms. When it’s about someone else, they are so much more receptive. And, you can teach by way of your own history, not some lecture constructed in vapor. They begin to realize that you are a real person – a whole person – someone making their way through life and they are intrigued. I love it.
Thank the goddess that my future wasn’t mapped out when I was 17. Yikes.
Ain’t that the truth! 🙂
These are the teaching moments that sneak up on us when we least expect it – and the moments when we can make the most impact. Hearing your stories, the snippets from your life, reveal you to be a wise, thoughtful and kind woman who is a passionate mother, as well. You go, Mom!
It sounds like the relationship between you and your son is shifting in ways that bring you happiness, even if (as you say in your comment) bittersweet. I’m happy for you, BLW. Might this be a hint at what the parent to adult child dynamic will be? If so, it seems like a nice one.
As for your mother learning Japanese by her 70s — how cool. Clearly, talent with languages runs in your family!
When my kids were grown, but staying with me for brief periods (Gep for awhile, then Kat for awhile) I used to love the evenings when we’d be home together and could sit quietly, or share thoughts, or have deep discussions. I still love it when they visit and we can do that. I love the people they have become and the things I can learn from them or share with them.
What an incredible thing to be able to say, Carol – to love the people they have become and the thins you can learn from them. I hope I will be in the same position. I feel that way now, actually. That’s as good as it gets, in my book.
And CT – I hope the answer is yes!
Isn’t it awe-inspiring sometimes to watch and realize for a fleeting moment that they are actually adults (or on their way to becoming adults)?
Learning IS harder, although we can sometimes squeak by with work-arounds based on past knowledge (but then there’s forgetting with age, too). So, Enjoy.