Last weekend, my youngest and I spent two big, fat, glorious days together. The other people that live here were occupied in various ways so we went wherever the day carried us. Saturday was a gorgeous day – 65 and sunny. We did some work in the backyard. We weeded and trimmed. He hammered some wayward deck boards. We ran the dog in crazy circles. Then, we climbed into my husband’s truck, rolled down the windows and sunroof, and set off to Boulder. He was in charge of the music. We sang, tapping the steering wheel and the armrest to every beat. We discussed the song lyrics, the state of the nation, the state of the world, the state of our minds. We hiked. We shopped. We ate. We laughed. We let Saturday circulate all around us and it was good.

Yesterday was Saturday, again. I texted my son “Hey, Trader Joe’s, Costco, Dick’s…Come with?” An hour later, we’re cruising around town again, playing more tunes, carrying on more conversation. We bought all the unnecessary things at Trader Joe’s, commented to each other on the inordinate amount of people who seemed to be in a hurry at Costco (we decided those people would be better served if they shopped on a Tuesday evening) and, let Saturday settle all around us once again. On the way home, Journey’s “Who’s Crying Now?” came on Sirius and we really cranked it. It was so good.

At one point, I asked him if it bothered him that I sang along to the music. He said “No. You don’t really sing loud or anything.” And then he went on to say, and I’m paraphrasing, that he enjoys hanging out with me, he enjoys listening to music with me, he enjoys having conversations with me, and that he likes having fun with me. Did you hear that?? He said I was a cool mom, even if he didn’t say that exactly. The rest of yesterday, I was strutting in my coolness. I was like “I’m that mom. I have his ear and his heart. I am so smart and so wise and I know how to parent. All you have to do is drive with the windows down and listen to Journey, people!”

This morning, I was alone with my thoughts, sipping coffee in the quiet house. A nagging thought started coursing through me and it wouldn’t leave. I sat with it for a while. Then, I went and found that 14-year old, youngest son and said “Do you remember yesterday when you said you enjoy being around me? That I’m a good mom to hang out with, that you’re glad we like many of the same things? Well, I want you to know that you won’t always feel that way. In the next few years, you are going to like things that I don’t. You are going to have opinions opposite of mine and feelings that are contrary to mine. You are going to do this because part of growing up is cleaving away from your parents – both literally and figuratively. In order to grow up, you’re going to seek out things that your parents don’t like and you’re going to do this all ON PURPOSE. You’re going to become contrary and it’s going to cause some friction between us. You’re going to find a way to be different than us. I know that doesn’t seem possible right now, but it will take place. So, right now while I have your ear, I want to tell you that this will be completely normal. And all I ask is that, when you are going through this growing-up necessity of life, you pause often enough and listen to your soul guide you on what is wrong and what is right. When that time comes, you won’t want my compass but you can use your own – it will be reliable and you will be ready. And, finally, while I still have your ear, if you want to rebel in something, don’t pick music. I like just about every kind of musical style there is and I will keep up.”

I so wish these thoughts of mine would have appeared in my conscience when I was younger. I wish I would have said these same things to my oldest, who is now 19. How much easier would entry into adulthood have been for him if he’d been warned about what to expect and reassured that it was normal? If he’d been told that he had a fine compass and that we couldn’t wait for him to use it, all by himself? Hindsight is always so crystal-clear. For some reason, our eldest children are parented more from a place of fear than from a place of assurance. Fear is the “emotion experienced in the presence or threat of danger” whereas, assurance is “a state of mind in which one is free from doubt.” (Merriam-Webster) By design, we become better parents through age, experience, trials, errors, misjudgments, good judgments, and sometimes, total and complete flub-ups. As we become more seasoned parents, we become more assured and less fearful. The good thing is, it’s never too late. We can always roll the windows down, play some music and ride around with our kids as sidekicks. We can keep connecting with them in whatever way they will let us. And that is truly a good thing.