Two cents — but no more
4.13.09
Claire sent a text to Sean last night as we were returning home from the airport after our little spring-break jaunt. He called back right away, and we both ended up having fairly long conversations with him.
He’s working so hard and is very tired (and has an especially killer week this week assignment-wise), but whenever I ask if I should be worried, he always says no. Even if he was lying to me repeatedly about this worrying bit, I think I’d probably fall for it (after all, I’d want to fall for it), but there’s an earnestness in his voice that I really do believe. He’s still exercising, too. He found a training course that he’s trying out and had some funny stories to tell about that.
One of his final exams conflicts with the dress rehearsal of the show that he’s in, which is a big problem, but I didn’t butt in too much about it — I just gave a suggestion and said that I knew he’d handle it. He’s also going to see his academic counselor about his course selection for the fall, and again, I said I trusted whatever he works out. He’s not making any progress with reaching the people he needs to reach about the summer internship that he’d like to get, but I told him that I knew he’d handle that as well — that something would happen (or not), one way or the other.
I was very proud of myself for not sticking my nose in all over the place and giving tons of advice — mainly just support. Until, that is, he told me about a situation that I felt might have him heading for the registration desk of Heartbreak Hotel. Here I couldn’t seem to help myself, and I did give my two cents… but I also hope that it all works out very well. He seems realistic and aware, so that’s all I could hope for in such matters.
After that nosy slip-up, though, I felt a need to ask, “Am I doing all right?” I meant about being a support person instead of an unwanted-advice giver. Sean said I was doing just fine, and in fact, he wouldn’t mind receiving even a little more structure and advice. (I sure didn’t see that coming!)
As parents, we fear the worst, hope for the best, and, when we can, try to enjoy the liberation that comes from knowing that even though we care deeply and have insightful opinions (it’s true!), our kids are mostly on their own — and that, thankfully, they can handle their own tragedies and triumphs.
He’s working so hard and is very tired (and has an especially killer week this week assignment-wise), but whenever I ask if I should be worried, he always says no. Even if he was lying to me repeatedly about this worrying bit, I think I’d probably fall for it (after all, I’d want to fall for it), but there’s an earnestness in his voice that I really do believe. He’s still exercising, too. He found a training course that he’s trying out and had some funny stories to tell about that.
One of his final exams conflicts with the dress rehearsal of the show that he’s in, which is a big problem, but I didn’t butt in too much about it — I just gave a suggestion and said that I knew he’d handle it. He’s also going to see his academic counselor about his course selection for the fall, and again, I said I trusted whatever he works out. He’s not making any progress with reaching the people he needs to reach about the summer internship that he’d like to get, but I told him that I knew he’d handle that as well — that something would happen (or not), one way or the other.
I was very proud of myself for not sticking my nose in all over the place and giving tons of advice — mainly just support. Until, that is, he told me about a situation that I felt might have him heading for the registration desk of Heartbreak Hotel. Here I couldn’t seem to help myself, and I did give my two cents… but I also hope that it all works out very well. He seems realistic and aware, so that’s all I could hope for in such matters.
After that nosy slip-up, though, I felt a need to ask, “Am I doing all right?” I meant about being a support person instead of an unwanted-advice giver. Sean said I was doing just fine, and in fact, he wouldn’t mind receiving even a little more structure and advice. (I sure didn’t see that coming!)
As parents, we fear the worst, hope for the best, and, when we can, try to enjoy the liberation that comes from knowing that even though we care deeply and have insightful opinions (it’s true!), our kids are mostly on their own — and that, thankfully, they can handle their own tragedies and triumphs.
