KEEP IT

I know I talk a lot about my oldest son, Cam. I can’t seem to help but always think about him and all the changes with him growing up. These changes just seem way more prominent to me than they do with my other two boys. It might be because he’s our oldest, and we are all experiencing the change into his manhood for the first time. It may be because he grew so tall and big so fast, I don’t know. Or it may be because sometimes I have this feeling I can’t seem to shake, this unnerving feeling, that somehow Cam’s childhood flew by a lot quicker than our other two boys. My husband has always pretty been hard on Cam. His expectations of Cam in school and with sports and just with life in general, have always been above and beyond what they are for the younger two. Mostly because he has always seen something special in Cam. He sees so much potential I don't even think Cam always sees in himself. And he just wants to see Cam succeed. 

 I do too, but sometimes when I look at who Cam is as a young man, my heart feels heavy, knowing he won’t be able to get that carefree childhood back. There’s all this pressure, all the time. And it seems way worse in this generation of kids than when I grew up, that’s for sure. Pressure to perform well in baseball, always. There’s always some coach watching, some video recording, some tweets out there ready to be uploaded, some big tournament or showcase full of recruiters ready and waiting to watch. There’s pressure to keep his grades up so that he can hopefully play baseball in college. Pressure to always be “on his best behavior” and not mess up.

 Don’t mess up on social media, it will ruin your chances at coaches thinking you have good character. Don’t mess up with your friends, it will affect your eligibility for your high school team.  Don’t mess up.  Don’t mess up our family expectations we have for you, it might mean losing your curfew. Don’t drink, don’t do drugs, don't smoke, don't vape. Don’t be around people who do those things. Don’t mess up. Don’t be glued to your phone. Just don’t mess up. Don't watch this show, don't go see that movie. Don't talk back to me. Don't listen to that music. Don’t sleep all day on your day off. Don’t forget to go to the gym. Don’t mess up. Don’t, don’t, don’t. It's so hard. Sometimes I just want to put all the boys in a time machine and go back 10 years. I’d let Cam be a kid again. I’d wait another year or two before giving him access to a phone. (He got one right before he turned 12).

 But we can’t go back in time. We all just keep moving forward.

I have also been thinking so many times lately, about a situation that occurred with Cam nearly a decade ago. He was 6, Ethan was 4 and Bo was 1. We lived in Wisconsin, and I was in nursing school full-time.  Steve had a job where he traveled Sunday night through Thursday most weeks. It was a lot of late nights for me. I would put the kids to bed, then go study until like 1:30 in the morning. It was the only quiet time I had and the only way I could make it work. I was so tired all the time, but young and ambitious and had my eye on the prize. I was almost done with school, in my last semester of classes and clinicals. But my priority was always the kids. They came first. Always.

So, one night right before tucking them in, Cam lost his first tooth. I remember how excited he was to put it under his pillow. And thankfully, I actually had 4 dollars in my wallet that day, which was unheard of because I never ever had cash on me. I put the boys to bed and went to study. I placed the 4 dollars next to a stack of books that were sprawled out on my bed, to trigger me to remember to put the money under his pillow in about an hour, after he was fast asleep. With my head in a book, I ended up falling asleep myself, and not waking up until 5am. In a panic, I remembered the 4 dollars for Cam, grabbed it, and headed for his room. “It’s early, he’ll still be asleep,” I remember telling myself.

As I walked past our family room, I noticed the back of his little crew cut round-shaped head just barely sticking up over the couch. I quickly put the money behind my back as I reached him. He looked at me with a smile and whispered,
“Mom, she hasn’t come yet. She’s late. The tooth fairy is late. But I know she’s on her way. So, I thought I would be really quiet and wait out here so she can come.”

It was all I could do not to start crying in front of him. I had failed as a mom, I thought. And my sweet boy is so precious, waiting patiently with a smile on his face at 5 in the morning, thinking the tooth fairy is still on her way. I told him something off the top of my head, my tired, worn out brained-fogged head, like, “How nice of you! But she only comes when children are asleep in their beds!  So, you better head back to bed and try to sleep a little bit longer and see what happens.”

He agreed (since he was 6 and still thought I had any clue about anything we talked about, something that ended up fading away over the years) and went back to his bed. Meanwhile, I feel like this next part of the story I became in a fight or flight type of situation. I had to act fast and think of a way to get him this money and keep him believing in the tooth fairy. I mean, for God’s sake, this was only his first tooth of so many he’d lose over the coming years, and I already blew it.  My kindergarten teacher days kicked in, and I grabbed a piece of blank paper and a glitter glue stick from our craft drawer and in big letters, I wrote the words “KEEP IT” in glitter all over this paper. Then I placed the paper and the 4 dollars near the front door, made a little trail of glitter into the house a bit, and said a prayer. Will Cam buy this? Will he think that the tooth fairy really came? Will he really think that she wants him to KEEP his own tooth?

The tooth fairy Gods were in my corner that morning because it worked. Cam bought the whole thing. He was so excited about the trail of glitter and felt honored he got to keep the tooth AND the money.

Honestly, I think this story keeps popping in my head lately because he is just not naïve anymore. He’s not innocent like a little kid. He’s past it. Even though I’m not.

Over a trip this summer with some people Steve works with, I met a guy whose sons are in their late 20’s. I told him how it’s so hard to watch my boys grow so fast. I told him I wish I could go back to when they were little. And he said something that resonated with me. He said, “You can’t go back. And you shouldn’t want to. Every moment with my kids has been great, and the older they get, the better it gets. Each stage of their lives has gotten better for me. So, look forward not backward.”

Maybe he’s right, I don’t know. But I think that a person can look forward and also keep as many memories as possible in their heart that they need to. When you have these moments like I did with Cam losing that first tooth, when your kids tell you things you never want to forget, write it down. Take a picture. Make it something you can’t forget. When they jump to the next stage and change into older human beings, I think you can be excited for them, but I also think it’s ok to keep those memories fresh in your heart. As many as you need. Just keep it. Keep it close to you.

I know that in 10 years from now, I will have a memory of catching 16-year-old Cam, who doesn’t have his license just yet, sitting in his used car we bought for him with the engine on, blearing his music, and going nowhere. Just sitting in there. Excited to be a driver but not quite legally allowed to leave the driveway yet. And it will probably make me teary thinking about it, but I choose the tears. The happy tears. I choose to keep it. I choose to keep all the memories in my heart. And never ever forget all these stages of life that my kids are experiencing. And how I felt at the time. How I as a mom felt in the moment.

Keep it. Keep those reminders you give them to wear deodorant. Keep the reminders to wear rubber bands with their braces even though they hate them, and the gazillion trips to the orthodontist.  Keep the images of them karate fighting in the living room. Keep the walk to school where they still hold your hand.  Keep the conversations of how many fish they caught at the pond, what they got on their math test, how the phone call went with the college coach that called.

 Moving forward is inevitable. But our memories are the strong foundation of the life we build and the future we all hope for, especially the future we dream of for our kids. So, in BIG bold glittery letters, I say KEEP IT. Forever and always. Keep it all.