Family Pact

Even with all my good intentions, the first day back to school after winter break didn't go so well for my nine-year-old son. I can't put my finger on it, nor can he, but he came home with droopy eyes and a heavy heart.

He said something on the trip home from school that really resonated with me. At first I thought he meant it in a positive way, as an affirmation of his sense of identity.  But a quick glance at his slumped shoulders and hanging head showed me that, in reality, he was feeling beaten down.

"I'm not easily categorized," he said.

He's a smart, sensitive kid, seemingly older than he is, very social, very extroverted. I realized he was thinking about how he fits in, how he finds his place at school (and sometimes in our very own family). I love this about him - he is a kid who helps me see myself in new and more compassionate ways. I wish everyone had a kid like this. Do you see it if you do?

I had to write a short bio recently and it took me ages. I couldn't for the life of me think about how to describe myself.  Am I first a mother? A wife? A writer? An entrepreneur? A daughter? It gave me a crisis of confidence that I couldn't come up with something to say about myself. Exactly who am I in a few sentences? My son caught me staring at the computer and walked over, smooched me and went back to his book. Crisis averted.  It didn't matter what the words said.  Maybe I didn't know what to call myself, but I definitely know who I am.

During our chat yesterday, I related a story to my son about a conversation I had a few weeks ago with a childhood friend. Our kids are in school together now and we've gotten back in touch. After a few beers at a fundraiser, we got to reminiscing about high school. We knew each other from grade school, but as we got into high school we didn't spend much time together.

I love the friends that I made in high school, but I remember it as a hard time in my life, probably the lowest point for my self-esteem. I never felt cool. I thought that I was missing out on some joke.  I told this friend that, from a distance, he was someone who looked like he hit his stride in high school.  He had lots of new friends; he was a good athlete, etc. His wife overheard our conversation and laughed at me.

"High school was really a terrible time for him."

"Really?" I said. "I would have thought you were very Rah Rah about high school."

He felt lonely and often isolated. He felt like he didn't fit in. He went on to tell me that I was a specific example of someone whom he thought thrived in high school.  I was one of those people he envied. He even said the dreaded word: popular.

"Me?"

In sharing this story with him, I wanted my son to understand that how you feel and how you appear don’t always align. He shrugged his shoulders at me.

"I know, Mom, I know."

My kids are starting to try and identify themselves outside of the family unit and I can't do it for them.  They have to find the way themselves.  From our own experiences, we know it won't always be easy.  In fact, sometimes (but hopefully not most of the time) it will be miserable.

This morning, in case I was going to waver, I got a more firm indication that this is true. I couldn't remember the word my son had used to describe how he felt yesterday, and so I asked him again.  He reminded me and then asked why I was asking. I told him that he had gotten me thinking.

"I don't want you to fix it for me, Mom."

Ouch. Am I that obvious? But, he's right. He's totally right.

Family is like a pact. We take a vow very similar to marriage when we have kids.  And just like a marriage vow, you don't know how important it all is until you're in the midst of it. It's not a command or a decree. It's an agreement to be present through thick and thin.

I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will love you and honor you all the days of my life. I take you to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part.

We didn't promise to fix their problems; we didn't promise to fight their battles; we didn't promise to protect them from everything bad or hurtful in the world. We promised to be true. We promised to love them. We promised to respect them and support them. We promised to stand by them in good times and in bad.

I'm going to have these vows printed and framed. My husband and I said them at our wedding more than 12 years ago, and we've lived them pretty well ever since. Today is the first day that I see these vows are so much bigger than a single promise, so much more complicated than just between two adults. We made this same promise to our kids on the day they were born. We just didn't have to say it out loud.