The other day at work someone asked me if I had any kids. I said, “Yes I do.”
“Oh, and how old are they?” this someone asked me.
“They’re twenty-two and seventeen.”
“Oh,” the someone said and then rolled her eyes.
“No, no, I like my kids.” I said.
“Of course you do,” the someone replied.
Yes, I do. You know, as mothers we are all sworn by some unwritten code or another to love our children. We love them when they are good, bad or indifferent. Do we like our children though? I have to say yes, I like both my kids. They are people I would choose to hang around with. Each of them is completely different and each has different skill sets that help them maneuver through a very weird and wonderful world.
My son Ryan is the older of the two, a boy born in the fall, my favorite time of year, a time when the sky is so blue it doesn’t look real. When the air is clear and the leaves are turning from green to bright reds and yellows and orange, a stunning portrait against that perfect blue sky. He arrived in 
the early evening during the 1988 Olympics, a beautiful little boy even at birth, and eager to get on with life.
As a young adult my son struggles like most young people do with the things we as their parents may have forgotten about.
Those struggles of love of self, and of just plain love. Finding a niche that is his alone, that fits in the world we live in today, a world that moves at such a fast pace. Here these children of ours are supposed to figure out where to go and what road to take? I admire my son’s resolve to be himself against the odds – against his parents’ wishes. We so desperately wanted him to continue his education after high school to earn a degree in business, or science or something we thought honorable. But this was not where his heart led him. No, he had other ideas. Now he is in culinary school and finds it the most exhilarating thing he’s done in a long time. He works in a pub and has done so for four years. This is his passion, his niche. Not one I would have chosen for him but I am not him and he ultimately is the one living his life. I can only wish him well and hope he can make a decent living out of it.
He is a young man who loves to talk, to laugh and to have fun. He is bright and attractive and his heart is kind. He is someone I would love to know even if he weren’t my son. He certainly has things to learn – don’t we all? Even at 50-odd years of age I am still evolving. And so one can only assume that he will only get better with age! How proud can a mom be? Very proud indeed. And yet don’t get me wrong: this boy has over the years been a handful. I have pulled out my hair, screamed and cried, wept in frustration and sat wondering for hours where I went wrong, waiting for him – this little boy – to grow up and be a man. I see it now slowly happening as he reaches a new chapter in his life; a transformation seems to be occurring as he finds his way.
My daughter Megan, born five years after Ryan is, at seventeen, mature, bright, beautiful and full of life. She got off to a shaky start in life. Born on a beautiful November evening, Megan came into this world with a smile on her face and a full head of dark gorgeous hair. The nurses admired her beauty. Small and delicate, Megan joined our 
family and we became complete. But within a few months she became ill. Hospitalized for ten days at two months of age with a rare form of infection in her blood, Megan soldiered on. Strong, resilient – these are words that I would use to describe her. Now at seventeen she continues to amaze me with her statements and views about life and about the world around her.
She has grown, it seems, from a small child to a mature woman before my eyes. She inspires me to be better with her strong convictions. She works hard at school and feels she will continue on to university after completing her CEGEP. She is interested in so many fields and so many possibilities are open to her. I as a parent will step back; I have learned this lesson only too well. She must decide her own future; I can only hope and pray that it is fulfilling and successful, that she is happy in what she does. Life is so fragile.
My kids do not consume my life; I have a life of my own. My kids, though, are a bonus, a gift, and a pleasant distraction from all the other stuff that goes on in my life. I watch them, observe them, and admire them in so many ways. They are my children. I love them so profoundly, so deeply – and I like them too. I like who they are, who they have become and who they are becoming. My kids are fighters; they are strong and courageous. They are human, in every sense of the word. It is wondrous to think that these young people were once so small, tiny in the crook of my arm. Now these creatures, these small little bundles of joy, embark on their journey of discovery and in my heart I wish for them to find peace and love and success wherever they go and whatever they do with their lives. And may they do it with absolute wonder and joy!
Image Credits
All photos by Martha Farley. All rights reserved.
you say it so well, Martha.
they are a gift.
a pleasure to meet you here, on this site
Thanks LInda!
I love how you’ve learned to allow your children to be themselves. What an uplifting story, well done!