“Hewson and I both sat on boosters until we were eleven,” Hayley replies, not lifting her head from her cell phone. She’s only twelve, and I held out as long as I could before giving her one, relenting when every other child had a phone. Kal has installed parental control measures, so we can screen what she’s doing, which helps to assuage my fears. I don’t want to breach my eldest daughter’s privacy, but I need to know she’s safe. There are tons of sick predators who prey on vulnerable kids, and our children are at higher risk because of the family they come from.
“Well, I hate it!” Heather proclaims, placing her headphones on her ears and plugging them into the iPad.
Hewson grins at me through the mirror as I climb into the passenger seat. Kal chuckles as he starts the engine, moving his hand to my knee, giving me a reassuring squeeze. “Never a dull moment with our little terror. Imagine how fun the teenage years are going to be.”
“God help us all.” I kick my shoes off as Kal maneuvers the car down the winding driveway.
It’s late when we get home, and I’m yawning as I open the front door. Kal disappears with Heather. We both know he’ll have more success getting her asleep quicker than me. Hewson retrieves our overnight bags from the trunk while Hayley kisses me goodnight.
“Want me to make you some herbal tea?” Hewson asks after dumping all the bags in the entryway, locking his dad’s car, and shutting the front door.
“That would be lovely. Thanks, love.” I stretch up as he leans down, letting me wrap my arms around him in a hug. It’s not often Hewson offers hugs these days, so I’m going to milk it for as long as I can get away with this.
My son is a giant, towering over me, and he even has a few inches in height on his father. He’s broader than Kal too, something he loves to tease his dad about. They work out together, either at our home gym or a local place they joined, and I love how close they are. It’s been challenging the past year as Hewson battles to gain his independence and seek his place in the world. But he’s still only sixteen, and he needs our guidance now more than ever.
Hewson has given us more trouble this past year than ever before.
He was always a mild-mannered, easygoing, happy kid full of childhood wonder and innocent mischief, so the regular arguments cropping up over boundaries have been most unwelcome. Kal and Hewson have butted heads a lot, and I worry one of these days something will be said that will irreparably damage the solid relationship they have. I end up acting as peacemaker, in an attempt to avoid that, when the truth is I’m as worried as Kal. I know it’s his hormones, and the pressure of the society we live in, and the family he comes from. Deep down, he’s a real good kid, but I can’t help worrying. These are formative years when a large part of who he will become as a man starts taking shape.
I want to encourage and guide him, without clipping his wings, while ensuring he is safe. To me, he will be always be my little boy. The sweet cutie who sang nursery rhymes until his voice turned hoarse. The enchanted believer who gobbled up the fantasy stories I read to him each night and hoarded dinosaur toys. The exuberant adventurer who giggled and screamed when his dad chased him around the garden, playing hide and seek or cops and robbers. The affectionate son who loved snuggles with his mom and always knew how to cheer me up when I was sad.
“Is everything okay, Mom?” he asks, pressing a kiss to my cheek before breaking our embrace.
“Everything is fine,” I lie. “I was just reminiscing about you as a little boy.” I pat his chest. “You were the apple of my eye then, and you still are.” Tears stab my eyes as a surge of unexpected emotion clogs my throat. “I hope you know how much I love you, Hewson. I know things have been a bit strained around here lately, but it’s only because your father and I love you so much.”
“I know that, Mom.” A sigh escapes his lips. “But you’ve got to trust me more. It feels like you and Dad don’t trust me at all.”
“We do trust you.” I am quick to reassure him. “It’s others we don’t trust.”
His features soften in understanding. “I know this is coming from a good place. I know what happened to you when you were a teen, so I get it, but you and Dad have warned me a lot. I know there are people out there who will try to take advantage of me. I’m always on my guard, and I won’t let that happen.”
The internet is a fantastic modern invention. Technology advances at such a rapid pace, and there are so many things kids these days get to do and have access to that we didn’t. I try to remember it’s a positive advancement. But it’s hard when the news of what I did to their father—and why—is out there for them to see, should they choose to search for it. Occasionally, some article will dredge that horrible part of our past back up, and it always sends me into a mini depression.
We chose to tell Hewson the true facts when he was twelve, and we recently spoke with Hayley too. We would rather they hear about it from us. Both our children were upset, and it took them a few days to process it all, but ultimately, they were understanding when they learned how it had all gone down.
“Good.” I squeeze his hand. “I want the best life for you, Hewson. You deserve to have the world. If we set boundaries, it’s because we are protecting that future for you.”
“I know, Mom. I do, but you’ve got to let me make mistakes too. It’s part of growing up. I’m pretty sure Dad and my uncles were doing far worse than me at this age.”
Isn’t that the truth.
I could continue protesting, but it’s late, and I don’t want to end the day arguing with my son. “It’s late, and some of us need our beauty sleep. I’m going to read in the sunroom for a while.”
“I’ll make your tea and bring it to you there.”
I settle into the comfy reading seat by the window of our sunroom, peering out the glass at the pitch-black night, while I contemplate life. Hewson bids me good night after bringing me my tea, and I sip from the cup as I attempt to read, but my brain won’t switch off long enough for me to focus, so I give up and quietly stew.
That’s how my husband finds me ten minutes later. Kal moves behind my chair, his hands landing on my shoulders as he gently kneads the tense muscles he finds there. “Talk to me, honeybun,” he softly says, leaning down to kiss my neck. “Tell me what’s going through your mind.”
“Horrible selfish thoughts,” I admit as the first tear rolls down my face.
Kalvin stops massaging my shoulders and moves in front of me, kneeling between my legs and taking my hands in his. “That’s not possible. There isn’t a selfish bone in your body.”
Agony coats my throat, and I work hard to stifle the anguish dying to burst free from my lips.
“I hate seeing you so upset. Perhaps we should have told them. Everyone would have understood.” Kal reaches up to swipe the tears from my cheeks.
“No.” I vigorously shake my head, forcing myself to get a grip. I thread my fingers through my husband’s, needing his touch to comfort and ground me. “Nothing should detract from Sel and Keanu’s news. They tried so long to have a baby. All those disappointments must have been heartbreaking for them. This is the best news ever, and our news would have only put a dampener on things. I didn’t want that for them. I know you didn’t either.”
