Spying and wondering

I helped out at the high school this morning with health screenings.

I like to observe high schoolers in their native setting. "In the wild", you might say. Because just because the checkout girl at the local grocery seems super sweet and a must call babysitter doesn't mean she acts that way amongst her peers. And frankly, for me, just being around high schoolers brings it all home in a flash. Even though they look at me and classify me as a "mom", which is probably anyone 30-50, I feel it was just yesterday that I was in their shoes. The acne, the hormones, the attitude. The insecurities. Oh, the insecurities. I don't really think I knew who I was or what I stood for then. I was so focused on fitting in and wondering what other people thought of me. And although I was hanging out with/ was a part of the popular group, I never felt "secure" in my place, as if my position was always temporary.

So as I looked at the boys, and they came to my station, I started to wonder which of those would be my boys someday. I mostly thought of Jack, either because he'll get there first, or because he is the sensitive one, where Luke probably already knows who he is and doesn't care what anyone thinks. He was just born that way. So, I picture future Jack. Based on preliminary observations, I don't think he'll be in the superjock/athlete set. Nor do I think he'll be the brainiac. So I see him fitting somewhere in between. And that's perfectly fine. I just want him to be the kid who is comfortable with who he is and what he believes in. I want him to be the one who would stand up for someone who is being teased or offer a hand to someone who fell down. I want him to be the kid who smiled, said hi, and said thank you when he left my station today. This is my obsession. To give him the tools and the encouragement to reach those high school doors with confidence, manners and compassion.

As I left the school with all of those thoughts swirling through my head, I passed his school, and noticed they were out at recess. So, I did what any curious mother would do. I spied. Yep, I was the shady looking car pulled up to the curb. You know, the lady with the sunglasses who had a book in her hand but never was really reading it? That was me. And I'm not ashamed. I just wanted to know. Is he alone? Is he playing? With whom? What's he doing? Does he run to get in line when the whistle is blown? Does it look like he's getting along with the other kids? Because honestly, we really don't know. I know how he is with me, and my family, and my friends, but how is he when I'm not there?

Because it's all part of the same big picture.
I've taught him what to do if there's a fire, or a stranger approaches, or if he finds me passed out.
He eats well. He poops daily. He makes his bed and takes his dishes over.
He says please and thank you, asks me how my day was, and is a killer phone conversationalist.

So what's left to worry about? Now that those first, fundamental worries of early parenthood are past me, the job I have before me is to build him up so he won't be torn down.