Originally published on Feb 27, 2009 @ 6:51 via In My Skin
Thirteen (13) years ago it was all so much easier… Becoming a teen father, I thought I had it all mapped out. I was going to go at it with all the best intentions. From the moment my son was born, my life changed. Born minutes after Valentine’s day, I thought our baby would be the glue to hold our doomed relationship together. On his second day, I had been recognized with several other new daddies in one of the local papers, recognized for being there when so many aren’t.
Again, the job seemed so easy then. I mean not easy, there are always obstacles, but I knew what my responsibilities were. I was to instill my values in my little boy. Family, hard work, education… Easy enough right?
I have always been proud of being different than I heard other men were. I was the first up at night with the bottle when I heard him cry. I was prepared for all his little moments. I always made sure my boy was able to eat. You know all the things a father should be doing. I didn’t have a father, donor aside, and could not subject my son to the same.
Days, weeks, months and finally years have gone by… Thinking back to how the older women raved about my parenting, how my little one developed very well and so quickly. Being potty trained and giving up the bottle before turning one (1). He was just ready!
By now, I am sure you are noticing a trend… Where is his mother? Well, she decided that I loved him too much and that I didn’t love her or his older sister enough. Early on, she got sick and when she was better, I guess she just did not want to be a mother anymore.
So many things have happened over the years. I don’t and never have had all of the answers. I have been pretty good at faking it or making the best of it. Now, my son is 13, a man in some cultures. He has so far to go, but he is so close. The demi-man has been through so much. He is so intelligent. He is so mature. He learned so much early on about dealing with the people closest to him, but what about the outside world.
Much of his lessons were learned watching me. What about all the things that I can’t teach him? All the things a boy needs to learn from his mother. Things like what a woman is supposed to be. In my eyes, a boy should learn the traits of a strong woman from his mother, his aunt, his grandmother, just like he learns what is is to be a man from the men in his family. They have all fallen short.
How do you teach a young man the differences between a girl, a woman, a lady, when the differences are so fine? How do you teach him to respect her when he doesn’t trust what should have been the blueprint. How does he learn to love her and be compassionate and supportive, when she turned her back on him during moments that counted most.
I am still learning these lessons myself. I guess, I have to deliver my lessons on the fly and have faith that he has learned enough to make the best of whatever else I can teach him.
