Saturday, January 12, 2013

When Mom Is Embarrassing

 Cooper cuddles with Coach Dad.

Chris hands out stars to Cooper's Upward basketball team.

I want to make more connections with my boys.  With that goal in mind, I've tried to make little affectionate gestures towards each son.  Like this week, I slipped lunch box love letters into my son's lunchbox.  I scribbled "I Love You" on paper napkins with a row of XOXs and my name.  I tucked the notes in between his peanut butter sandwich and potato chips.

The response?

Nothing.

So finally, I asked whether he received anything special in his lunch box.

Without looking up from his book, he sighed and said, "Mom, can't you find a less embarrassing form of communication!"

And there it was.  I was embarrassing.

Gone are the days where he screamed and clung to my neck when I left him in the church nursery or the preschool class.  When he raced to the door when I got home and swooped me into an embrace.  The days where he treated me like a rock star, like his everything.

Now, he yanks his hand back to his side when I reach to grab it.   When I try to pull him into a hug, his body stiffens so it turns into one of those awkward side hugs.

Somewhere along the way, I lost my title of a rock star.

A little part of me hurts.

But then I remember doing the same thing to my parents.  Years where I treated them more as pests than parents.  The funny thing is as I aged, my parents turned into something better than rockstars...confidants/mentors/friends.

And so I'm waiting (eagerly) for that day too.









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