Like Mother, Like Son; Like Father, Like Daughter

First things first, I got my temple recommend back yesterday!!! I'm soo happy. I'm going tomorrow! It's been three long months.

And now, the real reason for my post. I've written about my son before. Both of my children are so wonderful and teach me daily, and I usually feel like the luckiest mom in the world to have them in my life, as my children. I used to think that my daughter was exactly like me- bright, creative, imaginative, happy, enthusiastic, bossy, emotional, controlling, and, oh yeah, hilarious- and that my son was nothing like me. I am laid back and adaptable; he needs structure and fears change. I am scattered; he is precise. I am slow to anger; he is quick to anger. I don't really care about details; he notices everything. I used to imagine that angels in heaven would draw a mom card and a baby card, and if the two matched, they would send that baby to that mom. If they didn't match, they would find a different baby. I imagined that the angels chose my card and my son's card, and they laughed and laughed and laughed and one of them said, "let's do it anyway," and they laughed and laughed some more, because the two of us are NOT A MATCH. 

My sweet boy is 8, now, and as delightful as ever. I have always loved his guilelessness, his willingness to forgive, his desire to share. While I believed for years that we are opposites, I have always been very grateful to be his mother. He and my daughter bring me joy untold! However, I have realized that my son is exactly like me.

No, he is not an addict. But he has poor impulse control as a result of mild autism, and of circumstances that have never been in his control. For someone needing structure and predictability, this poor kid's life has been turned upside down more than any child deserves. The divorce was so hard on him, and the constant back-and-forth between homes continues to be very hard on him, even 6 years later. He really does have a rough life in many ways, and I usually fail to give him credit for that. He is different from me, and he's so different from most other kids. He is intelligent and has an exceptional memory. He doesn't like to do sports or even so much play with other kids. His vocabulary is bigger than many 8th graders', and he uses much different terminology than his peers. Often, he flaps his hands when other kids would laugh. At school, he was bullied due to his differences, and that broke my heart. One of the huge reasons I chose to homeschool was to protect my son from those bullies (both students and teachers). I thought he'd be loving life doing school at home, and that he'd change. But, the truth is, he still struggles-- not with the academics, but with just doing what he's supposed to do.

While I'm definitely not grateful for my addiction, I'm very grateful for the lessons I have learned and am learning through recovery. Especially in relation to parenting.

This morning started off pretty rough. Firstly, I am PMS-ing, which sometimes means that I have an unusually short fuse. So when my sweet son began his "I'm not doing school!" tirade this morning, I only tried being nice and reasonable for a short time before his continued outbursts set me off. I reacted poorly, and I yelled at my sweet 8-year-old son. He retreated into himself, and I had solved nothing. I had only made things worse. Still angry, but knowing I needed to calm down before I spoke another ill word to my boy, I sequestered myself to my bedroom and knelt, asking God to forgive me for treating His little child so poorly. Then I asked for help. "How do I reach my son?" I asked Him. "This happens almost every day. How do I reach him in a way that will inspire him to just do what he needs to do?"

And do you know what? Even after I had hardened my heart (toward a little child!), God answered my prayer with a thought: "How do I reach you?" 

So I thought a moment. I thought about why I was angry. I was angry because I felt like a failure. I felt like if I was a good mom, he'd want to do his school. If I was a good mom, he wouldn't yell at me and refuse to do simple things I asked him to do. I was upset because I knew if he just did what I asked, he'd be happier, and successful, and the whole family would be happier. I was angry essentially because he wasn't being obedient. How does Father treat me when I'm not being obedient? I thought about all my years of active addiction. I thought about His responses. I thought about how He made me feel in those times of failure to obey.

Does my Father yell at me in frustration and anger? No, but He is patient, kind, long-suffering. He doesn't remind me of all the ways I am failing; He brings to my mind the things I am still doing right. When I slip, He doesn't give up. When I was "slipping" weekly, and even daily, He did not give up on me. 

And that's what I needed from my Father. I needed patience. I needed love and encouragement. I needed forgiveness. And that's what my son needed from me right now. He's just like me. 

So I called him into my bedroom and asked him a few questions. I told him that he's just like me. I told him I know it's hard to do the things that are right sometimes. I told him that when I don't obey Heavenly Father, I feel miserable. I asked him how he felt in that moment, and I asked him how he felt the other day when he did three days worth of school, which was above and beyond what I'd required him to do. I asked him to compare those two feelings. 

How can I judge my son who struggles with obedience when I struggle with the same thing? How can I even get angry with him when it took me years to finally turn honestly to God? 

I told my sweet boy I love him. I told him I was sorry for yelling. I sang him "our song" and we both wept. It's a perfect song for how I feel about him:

I don't mind your odd behavior

It's the very thing I savor

If you were an ice cream flavor

You would be my favorite one

Oh, I've loved you from the start

In every single way

And more each passing day

You are brighter than the stars

Believe me when I say

It's not about your scars.

It's all about your heart.

And afterward, he hugged me, got up and said, "I'm going to go do school. Love you, Mom." 

After he left my room, I got back on my knees to thank my Father for teaching me how to be a parent, and for giving me, personally, the most merciful and loving example. I thought, "I wonder if I'll have to do this every morning to inspire my son to do school and/or chores, or whatever it is?" And then the answer, "God would do it for me. If I need to, I will have a one on one with my son every morning." And maybe he still won't be inspired. Maybe he'll still choose to fume in his bedroom. Just like Heavenly Father can't make me do what's right, I can't make my son do what's right. But I know one thing. I will never, ever give up on him.