The Value of X

Posted by Justine | December 6, 2008 | 12 Comments

We sat at the kitchen table, trying to figure out the value of x. “I think…Well, if I recall…Umm, if we cross…What about trying…Oh honestly, son, I just don’t remember”. He sat there for a few minutes, trying to decipher the 14 symbol long equation, then started writing furiously.

“I figured it out, mom, thanks anyway.”

And that was that. I was no longer the purveyor of math homework. I was officially outdated. I walked away with a mushy stew of feelings. I felt so, well, useless. I couldn’t remember High School math! I knew Trigonometry and Calculus were on his horizon, and I knew I would be helpless to give any aid. I was walking down the hall, away from my son, away from a ritual that had brought us together every night for 7 years.

I was walking down the hall toward my son’s independence.

But there, in a tucked away corner of my mushy stew, was a dissonant feeling. Not a feeling of sadness, not a feeling of being a useless math slug. It was back there pushing up the corners of my mouth, forcing a smile across my face. It was making my heart leap. My son was doing without me! He was reasoning! He was finding the value of x!

As we talked later, he casually mentioned he was concerned about an upcoming vote in the senate. “Don’t you think it would be bad if they don’t pass this, mom? Don’t you think?”

I looked over at him quizzically. “Where did you get that from?”

“Time magazine, of course.”

“You read Time?”

“Of course I do, mom. I need to know what’s going on!”

Another muscle in my mouth twitched.

We talked about Congress and government and current affairs for an hour. I absolutely thrilled to have a logical, pointed, reasoned discussion with this person who, for so long, was a lump of flesh that only required noodles, balls, crayons, and the occasional popsicle.

I find as my children grow, the joy of having them in my life increases in exponential ways. The giggles that come when they’re small turn into heartfelt and powerful belly-laughs. The smiles and hugs of tiny steps of accomplishment turn into heart bursting joy at watching them get along in the world. The math problems get bigger, the confidence of success increases. The vocabulary tests get longer, the reasoning skills grow.

I often hear friends lament the loss of their little ones, mourn the aging of toddlers, grieve the passing of those early years. I, too, grieve the loss of tininess. The particular smell of a baby right after a bath, the squishy thighs that scream out to be pinched, the curling up and nuzzling into my chest – all moments I know have passed from my life too quickly. And yet that muscle in my mouth continues upturned. The tiny years are ending for me, and I find myself more content than ever before.
As my son reaches for his enormously complicated calculator, I watch him manage himself, rifle through the depths of his ever expanding mind, reason and negotiate possibilities. It is difficult to imagine that he was once unable to do for himself. He seems a different person than the one I used to diaper and nurse.

I guess he really is.

The baby I took care of was a collectable. He was my possession in many ways. I was in total control of his physical safety and existence. His thoughts mirrored my own, his actions followed in step with mine. He was still mine.

Not anymore.

This calculator-wielding, gangly kid has an entire world of experiences that are outside his parent’s world. This retainer-wearing, Time magazine-reading, independent thinker is actually starting to do what we could only imagine as possible a decade ago: he’s becoming his own sovereign and autonomous state.

I think I was once worried about this moment in his life, the time he began to pull away. I was told for so long and by so many that this was a “horrible” or “difficult” time in his life, in my life. It hasn’t materialized. Frankly, it’s been too much fun to watch.

Watching him find his own way, struggle through relationships at school and church, develop his very own testimony is just so much fun to see and be a part of. No parent should be allowed to be so entertained by first crushes, male expressions of bonding, and watching pimples make their appearance on unsuspecting faces.

I returned to him later that night to ask about the math. “Figure it all out?”

“Yeah, mom. Thanks for your help.”

“Hate to break it to you, but you figured it out on your own. I just stared at x and tried to divine the answer. That wasn’t exactly helpful.”

“Well, thanks for your help anyway. You made it a lot easier.”

The corners of my mouth turn up slightly. I might not be able to conquer complex algebraic equations, tell him how to talk to girls, or explain why the senate blew it, but yeah, he does still want me around. That’s gotta be saying something.

Category: Daily Special

Comments

12 Responses to “The Value of X”

Annette
December 6th, 2008 @ 9:21 am

I’m in this same era, and I’m loving it. Yes, I miss the times my son was “mine,” as you put it (so perfectly), but it was a delight to discuss the election with him and watch him come up with his own opinions and dreams and goals that I have nothing to do with. He’s growing up, and watching him is quite a ride.
Angela
December 6th, 2008 @ 11:07 am

This is a great post, Justine. And I agree (so far!). My oldest is 12 and a couple of weeks ago he asked me to tell him all about the recent history of US relations with Iraq and how we even “got into this war in the first place” so he could, as he put it, “decide for himself” whether or not it’s been a good idea. It was a great conversation. I love watching my kids become more and more themselves.
Melissa
December 6th, 2008 @ 11:15 am

Justine, you are an awesome mom. I loved reading this.
Leslie R
December 6th, 2008 @ 11:35 am

Justine, what a great post. I love these lines:

“The baby I took care of was a collectable. He was my possession in many ways. I was in total control of his physical safety and existence. His thoughts mirrored my own, his actions followed in step with mine. He was still mine.”

They are so personal and yet so universal to my world as well. Thank you for putting words to some of the exact pieces of life that I am also experiencing. There are days when I love that the apples in my orchard don’t fall too far from the tree-ME. And then there are days when I want the apples to fall far away from the branches that I bare, so that my girls can create their own orchard.

The other day I took our youngest (age 5) to the doctor to have growth on her lip biopsied. The doctor kept shooting the growth with a needle to numb her, and all I could do was just hold her hand and stroke her forehead, when truly, I just wanted to say, “Here, take me. Put the needle in my mouth.” Strong lessons and pain come with parenting, but so do blessings and brightness.
I think doing homework, particularly math, has been the metaphor for me learning about parenting with our oldest daughter (11). I can pull up an entire fleet of tutors for her, but in the end, it is standing on the sidelines doing everything I can to make her goals attainable and if she falls or fails, I will be there to tell her that I love her.
Thank you for reminding me how great it is to be a mother. I won’t take it for granted today because of your words and thoughts.
m&m
December 6th, 2008 @ 7:54 pm

What an awesome post. I’m loving watching my kids grow. This suggests I have lots more to enjoy.
wendy
December 6th, 2008 @ 8:48 pm

Beautiful, Justine. And your dear son . . . he’s pretty remarkable, isn’t he?
Michelle L.
December 7th, 2008 @ 8:39 am

beautifully written. I love my teenagers. They constantly surprise me!
wendy
December 7th, 2008 @ 5:12 pm

I just noticed, and think it’s cute, that on the side bar, this post is listed as “The Value of X(8)” (depending how many comments).

I love math, but will definitely need a brush up on trig and calc.
justine
December 7th, 2008 @ 6:39 pm

I have long known that I am intuitively a mother of older children. While a love my little ones, my calmness and confidence as a parent has come with my older kids. I still feel like a fish out of water when I’m parenting my little tiny ones.

“Words, little one! Use words!” “And what you’re saying isn’t rational at all!” My little ones are so beautiful, but so mysterious and confounding.
Raschel
December 8th, 2008 @ 12:51 am

I still have the kiddies who like to nuzzle… I can’t even imagine them doing algebra but at least I know that I have something good to look forward to! Thanks for the insite into the future of my motherhood.
mormonhermitmom
December 8th, 2008 @ 1:25 am

Love it. Not there yet, but looking forward to it.
kannie
December 10th, 2008 @ 2:17 am

Amen!!! Just a mom to a 2 1/2-year-old right now, but I LOVE seeing him learn to do things. It even makes the messes more bearable when I can see the underlying learning and the wheels turning… and it’s as inspiring as it is frequently frustrating. I am SO looking forward to the next few years!!!