Mothers and Sons

A day full of simple joys celebrating hard-earned successes

I have two grown sons - Eli, who is 24 (well, almost, at least he will be in about 28 days) and Caleb, who is 22. I also have two grown daughters who are beyond wonderful - Breeann and Kristen. Women do not tell their ages, so I cannot divulge that secret to you about Bree and Kris, but they are a bit older than my boys. I will give equal billing to them in a future tribute, but tonight I must write about my boys. Both of my daughters have sons of their own, so I feel certain they will understand.

My sons are, in a word, delightful. Each of them, in their own unique and special way, has made the experience of being a mother thrilling, frightening, exhilarating, terrifying, joyous, heartbreaking and finally, something I wouldn't have missed for all the world. I will always remember the day I called my husband at his office and tearfully proclaimed to him that I did not think I was cut out to be a mother to boys. This proclamation followed a period of about three weeks during which Eli had cut his right index finger off at the first knuckle and Caleb gashed his arm open when he stuck it through a window. Naturally, both events necessitated ambulance rides to the emergency room. Eli required surgery to reattach the severed finger; Caleb got away with only several stitches. At the time, the boys were three and five years old, respectively. I could see my future filled with blood, ambulances and emergencies and I was terrified.

Boys will be boys and I was right. There were many more emergencies to follow, some more nerve rattling than others, but I grew into my role as the mother of two sons and learned not to entertain panic as my natural first response. True to his nature, Eli was the more daring of the two and had more injuries than his brother. He has always had a very inquisitive mind and likes to tinker, which apparently was the motivation for his overhaul of his bicycle at age ten. Somehow, he never managed to get the front tire back on as securely as it should have been. On two separate occasions when he was riding his bike at the speed-of-Eli, his front tire took flight, sending him headlong over the handlebars, resulting in a broken arm the first time around, and a concussion and a scraped-off eyebrow the second time.

Caleb was my sensitive son—the one who never failed to notice when I got a haircut (Mom, your hair looks pretty), who worried (Are you okay, Mom?), and never wanted to see me sad (Please don’t cry, Mom.). Caleb was my baby. It was hard to let him grow up.

Nevertheless, grow up they both did, with all the heartbreak and anguish that accompanies little boys becoming teenagers. The teen years were hard for all of us. This is a hard world for any child, but I believe teenage boys have a double portion of trouble finding their way to adulthood through the minefield of adolescence. At least my boys did. If I had a nickel for every tear I cried and every prayer I prayed, I would be the female Donald Trump.

During a particularly difficult year, I remember telling both of my boys, “No matter what you do or where you go, no matter how much you try to push me away or convince me what a tough guy you are, I will never let go of you. I will never give up on you and I will never stop teaching you who I know you really are. So knock yourself out if you feel you must. I will always be right there beside you reminding you who you are.” The teenage years with my two sons taught me the meaning of perseverance. I learned that when you reach the end of yourself and know you cannot take another step, you will indeed keep putting one foot in front of the other and keep going because it is the only choice you have. I only thought I was tough before I had boys.

Today I spent the day with my two sons, my eldest daughter and two of my beautiful grandchildren. I could not begin to say when I have had a more wonderful day. Only one thing kept it from being the perfect day and that was the absence of my second daughter and my third delightful grandchild. Even so, it was damn near perfect. We spent the day shopping. However, this was not just any shopping. We were shopping for last minute items for school for my two grandchildren as they start first grade and Pre-K and for Caleb’s final items that he will need as he starts his junior year at UT-Austin. Just as importantly, we shopped for the tools Eli needs as he begins to throw himself into our fledgling family real estate business. It was a day to celebrate victories and hard-earned successes.

The smile on my face could not have been any wider, nor the joy in my heart any more intense as I shared the simple happiness of this day with the two sons who have become the young men I always knew they would be. Certainly, there will be hills and valleys to come, but today was as fine a day as I could have ever wanted. I will hold it in my heart forever.

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