I wonder sometimes when this screwing up thing will end.  I think I’m starting to realize it won’t.  Being a parent equals messing up, often in a BIG way.  I did it, again, recently.  I messed up, screwed up, did it all wrong, and my child is paying the price.

A harmless text to a few friends, or so I thought.  I thought it was too adorable not to share – his newfound appreciation for smelling good after receiving cologne for Christmas.  I meant to be open and funny and bond with other moms over the preciousness of a child on the brink of puberty.  But I forgot something important.  I forgot that those moms might decide to share the story with their own little boys on the brink of puberty, and that’s where it all went to hell.  You see, little boys can be cruel to one another, much like adults I guess.  They see a place to poke and they go in for the kill.  I’m sure they meant to be open and funny too.  But all he felt was the sting.

Damn.  This parenting thing really sucks sometimes.

He’s already teetering on shutting me out.  He’s quiet, reserved, moody.  He’s almost twelve, and so I expected this was coming.  Expected and dreaded, even while knowing it’s exactly how things are supposed to go.  This becoming independent – it all hinges on his ability to pull away from me.  He has to do it.  It’s healthy for him to do it, in fact, no matter how much it wounds my soul. 

I had hoped I could do it well – parent a child who has begun to realize he won’t always be parented.  It’s difficult, but I thought I could do it well.

I knew something was up when he came downstairs that morning without the cologne on, and deep down, I knew it was my fault.  I should have kept it for me alone.  I should have relished in the way it made my heart feel - both wide open with joy and torn to shreds with sorrow - to see him doing something so indicative of where he’s headed.  To see my son showing an ounce of concern over his appearance because that’s what growing up does to little boys – it makes them self-aware.  It’s a good thing, in many ways, and there is a thread of relief woven through those moments when you realize your child might actually brush their teeth one day without being asked because they are changing in exactly the ways they are supposed to change.  

I should have kept it to myself.  But there was pride mixed in with the joy and the sorrow.  There was pride and wonder and fear and even hopefulness for what is to come, and when all those feelings intersect, you are left with nothing to do but laugh.

And so that’s what I did. 

I laughed about how much cologne he was using and shared it with my friends because that’s how you find relief in those moments that feel like they will crush you.

And instead, I crushed him.

I’ve apologized.  I’ve cried and lost sleep and cried some more, and I’ve apologized.  But like all those other times I knew I’d messed up in such an incredibly huge way, I can’t let it go.  Because I know, he’ll remember this one.  That time I spanked him and sobbed for weeks afterwards.  That time I intentionally broke a Lego creation because he had been so mean to his sister.  He was little then.  Too little to remember.  But this one, he will carry.  The time his own mom turned him into a joke.  He will remember, and so will I.  And hopefully, it will be a lesson well-learned.

Damn.  This parenting thing really sucks sometimes.