interlude

Before I continue with my thoughts on christianity, I am just consumed with thoughts and worry on my wonderful son and perfectionism. Oh where to start.?!

My sweet ten year old son is the spitting image of myself, in all respects. We share the same eyes and nose and the same need to be perfect. The eyes, I'll share happily. The perfectionism, I'd happily take away from him and suffer it myself.

In my completely unbiased opionion, my 10 year old "baby" is cute, extraordinarily intelligent, above average in athletisim, and ...anyone who knows him will agree with this...way off the charts in emotionality. (Don't even know if that's a word, but I think you know what I mean.) He feels. He feels everything. He feels everything more than you can imagine.

Today, I have gone the gamut. I've been proud of him for the way he is obviously the primo player on his (immature) baseball team (I am completely unbiased, remember) - he is tall and lean and very very good. I have been worried for him because the team bully has obviously targeted him because he feels competitive and they are equally emotionally immature. I have been horrified for him because I saw the ball that he mis-fielded and watched it become the straw that broke the camel's back. I have been angry with him because he started trading insults with the team bully instead of enduring it like an adult would have (what, me have unrealistic expectations?) I have been embarrassed for him as he finally lost it and sat on the field in tears with his hat stuffed over his eyes because his group folded at the end because they were tired and hungry and it just all became more than he could handle. I was proud of myself as other parents eyed his reaction and looked to me for mine, and judged me, and I simply didn't care. I looked them in the eye and said, yes, he was emotional and I was able to not feel like it was a reflection of myself. I was proud of myself again as I listened to him cry in the van about all the things he failed in today (he will not win the presidential fitness award again this year, as he did last year, and he misfielded that #$@$7 ball, which of course makes him the worst baseball player ever). I despaired that he felt it was so important to prove himself. Did I give him that impression? I am the exact same way, though, and my parents never made me feel like it was necessary. I just "knew" it was. It's just who I am, and it's who he is.

(sigh)

I don't know if there is any way or anything I can ever do to convince him that he is perfect exactly as he is. I don't need a piece of paper or an award to convince me that he is athletic. I don't need him to make the honor roll or to make the Visions Team to prove to me that he is extraordinarily capable in the academic realm. I don't need him to always win or be the best to make me love him. I love him because he falls apart if someone looks at him wrong (he feels honestly and deeply). I love him because he KNOWS what is right and good (although I would be glad if he were able to learn that not everything must fit exactly into his vision). I love him because he is who he is, which is this person who is extraordinarly entwined with who I am, yet who is a unique being. My son and I, we are one and the same and we are nonetheless very different.

My wish for him would be to feel just a tiny little portion of the love that I feel for him, aside from how athletic, how intelligent, how caring he is. He can just open his eyes in the morning and smile at me, and he is the most wonderful person I have ever known (aside from his sister, of course - but that is whole 'nother post).
Speaking of his sister, I should add here that she - all of her tiny 7 year old self - simply lit in to that team bully today because she saw him picking on her brother. She has no fear and despite the fact that she fights 99% of the time that she is with Q at home, she will obviously defend him 'till her last breath.