Worms, Weeds, Keys and Questions- a Prom Proposal

Greg came over to me while I was working at my computer this morning, his eyes shining and a little grin on his face.  "That was kind of cute," he said, "watching Sam leave to go fishing with Aubrey."

Samuel had gotten up bright and early for a Saturday morning.  A man with a plan, he was putting the finishing touches on a wooden box he was making.  He bought the unfinished box earlier in the week, had wood burned "Aubrey" into the top in sweet little cursive letters, and had risen early to give it a final coat of varnish.  He tucked a note inside the box asking her to go to prom with him and he secured  it with a shiny silver lock attached to a latch he had mounted on the outside of the box.  He checked his tackle box for supplies and loaded his fishing pole into the back of the car.  It was a cool, sunny morning and he'd been waiting all week for the best day to take Aubrey, his girlfriend of 9 months, fishing at a pond nearby. He hummed as he packed up the car.  He hums constantly- just like his Dad. 

Sam asked Greg to make sure he had everything and Greg peaked into the tackle box.  Next to the lures, bobbers, and hooks sat an old baby food jar.  It was crusted with dried mud, and was starting to rust around the cap.  Greg smiled and said, "Gonna use this for worms?".  Sam replied, "That's the plan." The tackle box was a gift from grandparents given when the boys were probably 2 and 4.  Some of the lures were still in their little plastic bags and most of the bobbers shiny and new.  It had been used for fishing at the cabin and on family picnics and now was carefully stored in the kid's workbench Greg built for them in the garage.  The baby food jar was probably left over from one of Sam's first meals.  Greg saved them all and has used them for nails, screws, paint, etc. over the years.  He remembered using the jar to dig in the dirt with the boys, searching for worms to fill it prior to each fishing excursion. Afterwards, dumping the leftover worms and mud from the jar into the water to "feed the fish" before putting it back into the tackle box for the next time.

This morning, Sam arrived at the pond first to hide the box safely in the duckweed and sedge. He cast in his line with the key to the lock tied firmly to the end of his pole in place of a hook.  Aubrey, always a good sport,  arrived a bit later unsuspecting and enthusiastic.  The plan was perfectly executed, Sam texted me later and went off without a hitch.  He nonchalantly asked her to reel in his line for him and played confused upon discovering the key.  Sam then hinted as to the location of the locked box, she found it in the weeds, opened it and quickly answered "Yes!" (as if he really had any doubt).  Mission accomplished for Sam, my romantic young man who celebrates his 18th birthday three weeks after prom.  Greg and I had a little laugh over the irony of our soon-to-be adult child heading out fishing this morning with his little green tackle box and baby food jar for worms.  Another of those circle of life moments that comes whizzing at us out of nowhere, reminding us of how fleeting childhood is and what tender memories it holds.

Samuel going fishing in 2006

Mojo and my Messy, Beautiful Boys

Lately, my teenage sons have seemingly lost all their motivation and turned into these young men I hardly recognize anymore. It's like searching for Sasquatch- I don't know who they are or where they are going.  I've lost sight of them. Neither one studies as much as I think they should or is as eagerly involved in school activities.  They have mutually decided that family fun isn't so much fun anymore.  They argue, complain, and generally find their father and I annoying and boring.  In fairness, they are your average teenage boys.  Tall, thin, lanky-limbed and easily distracted.  They are mostly concerned with looking good and smelling good.  Their rooms are disaster zones of piles of clothes, cluttered desks, and loud noises.  They wrote the book on "whatever".  They are a mess!

The definition of motivation is to give reason, incentive, enthusiasm, or interest that causes a specific action or certain behavior.  When I step back and look carefully at who and what my boys are at 16 and 17 years of age, I realize that perhaps it's just semantics. As Chase Mielke says on his blog Affective Living perhaps "there is no such thing as an unmotivated person.  There are only unmotivating contexts."   We can't motivate or change the person themselves, 
but we can "look for the flaws in the context."  Mielke says," We can change how people see the who, what, when and why (of a situation) and thus create contexts that enhance motivation. Just because you don't do something doesn't mean you are a lazy person.  All it means is that the context does not motivate you."

To illustrate his point, let's go back to my messy, beautiful boys. Both of them ARE certainly enthusiastic and interested, just not in the circumstances and places I'd like them to be.   They have reason and incentive toward personal goals, just not the goals my husband and I identified and set for them on the days they were born. They want to come up with their own game plan and go about things their own way. They have taken their God-given talents, combined with the opportunities we provided them and forged ahead down their own path toward their own lives. 

Weren't they supposed to ask me if I was ready for this or gave them permission to grow up?  I know the answer to that.  No, they were not.  They are actually doing just what they are supposed to do at their age.  They are standing on their own two feet and testing their weight in the world.  They are learning to think independently, making clear and conscious choices for themselves.  They are figuring it out all on their own.  This is good.  This is healthy.  Steady Mom!  Take a deep breath, make a wish, trust, and hold on. 

When I wish they would be more focused on their academics, they are off playing their musical instruments or listening to their newest record album (my boys are old school!) and singing along.  Sometimes, Sam is writing a song and Joseph is improvising from a favorite tune.  RIght now, their music is their first love. Not with strict instruction, evaluation or study of music theory, mind you, but in a context that suits their needs and desires.  For Joseph that is with a laid-back hippie guitar teacher who let's him guide the lesson.  For Sam, after four years of formal lessons, sitting at the piano all alone is a form of stress relief. It is both his downtime and his excitement after a long day at school. I don't have to nag him to practice daily.  He chooses to play on his own every day. He is motivated to do so.

When I nag them about going to church, giving back, and getting those FREAKING service hours they need for EVERYTHING nowadays, they say no to every opportunity I present.  But, when their Dad sings in choir for special occasions or holidays, they are always beside me in church to show him support.  Joseph is the first one to ask for money for EVERY service collection campaign their school is having.  If I don't chip in, or forget to give him a donation, he makes one on his own out of pocket and never says a word.  Later, when questioned, he just says it's taken care of.  He seeks out homeless people in public downtown, asks them questions, and gets to know them.  Scary for this mama, yes, but life-changing for a 16 yo.  He offers them what he can give; sometimes bringing them coffee or bottled water.  Other times, just listening to their stories.  Samuel doesn't want to get involved in a service club at school, but he and his girlfriend initiated a once a month commitment to serving a meal at our local homeless shelter.  He also thrives in a part-time job that teaches him the value of commitment, teamwork, and cooperation.  Giving in their own way, on their own time, with their own spirit of contributing to the greater good through dedication, sacrifice, and hard work.

When I casually suggest it would be nice if they would join a sports team or engage in regular physical activity (like I always had them do when they were little), they shrug their shoulders at me and walk away.  Sam, however, gets himself faithfully to the athletic club 3-4 times a week to lift weights and run with friends.  Joseph, who has never enjoyed playing sports goes to most of his buddies games and is their number #1 fan and cheerleader.  He can't drive himself yet, so he walks almost everywhere he goes and is the healthiest eater in our family.  He constantly reads labels, encourages organic ingredients and coaches the rest of us in better food choices.  They are taking care of their bodies in ways that are comfortable and convenient for them.  They remind me constantly that they aren't using alcohol, taking drugs or being careless or naive in sexual activity (like some of their friends! Gulp!)  Both strong, healthy boys with respect for their physical and mental well being. Beautiful boys inside and out.

When I jump on that competitive bandwagon of comparing them to peers and friends, I get overwhelmed with worry for their futures and what will become of them.  Yet, they are constantly reminding me that they are who they are.  They do things differently than I had presupposed, or than others their age, but they get things done.  They have goals and dreams.  They work hard at school and at life.  They try amid a thousand pressures, questions, and expectations hounding them every day.  They've got this!  It's their life to live, not mine.  Where they go and who they become is their choice.  I can look at them and see them for who they are-REALLY ARE- or I can keep seeing the things I don't recognize.  The boys I thought they would be but aren't.  The road I thought they would travel, but haven't.  The path I wanted them on, but they didn't want to go down.  Yes, it's their personal reasons, choices, and incentives that lead them to their interest and enthusiasm for life.  Its their motivation to behave in ways that bring them their own happiness and fulfillment.  When I look at the messy,beautiful way they are living, I fully realize that this is all I ever really wanted for them- happiness and fulfillment.  

This essay and I are part of the Messy, Beautiful Warrior Project — To learn more and join us, CLICK HERE! And to learn about the New York Times Bestselling Memoir Carry On Warrior: The Power of Embracing Your Messy, Beautiful Life, just released in paperback, CLICK HERE!

Jail Buns

My husband was called for jury duty this week and it reminded me of when I landed in court last summer.  Thankfully, it was as a juror and not a defendant.  I was seated on a Monday and the criminal trial wrapped up on Thursday after 5 hours of deliberation.  I have to say, I was dreading it. Two weeks of a commitment to be in the courthouse either awaiting jury selection or actively serving on a trial in the middle of the summer?  Well, it ended up being a really invaluable experience.  I found it educational, enlightening and exhausting.  And the biggest perk of being a juror in Olmsted County Circuit Court?  The jail buns!  They served them to us every morning before entering the courtroom, the best darn cinnamon rolls I've ever had- golden, light, and perfectly swirled with just the right amount of cream cheese frosting. "Jail buns" the bailiff called them because they bake them at the county jail overnight and bring them to the courthouse first thing in the morning.  You could make a case for other positive aspects of the call to legally serve: first-hand experience in the judicial system, satisfaction in witnessing the due process of law, and a prime parking spot in the juror's lot.  But, I'll take the jail buns for the win. Yum!  So, when Greg headed out the door this morning, I said, "Go get 'em, Tiger!" and he thought I meant the bad guys, but I didn't.  I meant the jail buns.  Seriously, they are worth the wait!  I want him to be selected because you don't get them unless you are seated on a jury.  So, good luck, Honey!  Stay impartial, but I hope you get the guilty pleasure of eating a jail bun or two.  After all, it's your civic duty.

                                                  Photo source:  www.foodnetwork.com