Sometimes Being A Parent Really Stinks

Sometimes being a parent really stinks. My heart is breaking, I question everything, I want answers and there are none. It should not be such a big deal, it is not like I have not dealt with a similar situation, just this Fall. I even blogged on it. Isaac and Christian and basketball, Christian was getting more time as a freshman than Isaac was as a junior. Yet, it felt different, it felt more justified. I could reason my way through it. This just doesn’t make sense and I have no column to file it in.

I knew it was a bad idea from the beginning. We had been joking for a couple of months that Jessie would get her permit before Christian. He did not think this was funny, but he did not ask to go take the test. He had failed twice and was very gun-shy. He always compared himself to Jessie and in his eyes always came up short. Now they went together to take the test. I had offered to take them at different times, but they were both sure they were ready and this was a good thing.

We waited for about an hour, I was sitting between them. Christian would ask me a question, lament his nervousness, and Jessie was calm, confident. I prayed but knew I was in a no win situation. CJ was called first, given his test computer and Jessie and I filled out the paperwork for her, as it was her first time. Christian walked slowly to the cubicle he was assigned. Jessie finished her paperwork and went to her computer. In what felt like seconds to me she was done and Christian was still testing. She gave me the thumbs up and my first reaction was “Oh shit.”

I stepped up to the desk once more, trying to smile and be happy for Jessie while my heart was breaking for Christian. I paid for Jessica’s permit, and waited for CJ. We moved to wait for Jessie to have her picture taken and not to hover by the test station. He quickly walked by, did not look at either of us, and went straight to the car. This was not how I wanted the scene to go. I am stuck wanting to celebrate Jessie, and feeling so sad for Christian.

We get in the car, Christian is shot-gun, Jessie in the back. I am not sure what to say, so remain silent. Christian won’t look at me. He is slumped in the seat, close to tears, mad, and sad and frustration is seeping from his very core. We get out of the parking lot and he asks me if he is retarded. My heart which was close to breaking, feels the knife turn a bit deeper. What can I say? What can I do to stop t he pain he is feeling. Sometimes being a mom is the hardest job ever.

Jessie is now on the phone with her dad, she is trying to remain quiet and not be too excited about her accomplishment. Christian asks me in complete seriousness why when he did study, and he has tried, why would he fail on the last question of the test? The knife turns once more, and I just want to wrap him in my arms and never let him go. Instead, I keep my eyes on the road, tell him how intelligent he is, and how he just has text anxiety, and he psyched himself out. He hears me but it does not take away the pain.

Sometimes being a teenager really sucks.


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