“Not being weird is my goal today.”

This is what Jackson said to me in the car on the way to drama camp this morning. My heart broke in a million pieces.

Fountain at HH

It reminded me of a conversation he and I had a few months ago when he used the word “weird” to describe himself for the first time.

Jackson: I don’t have any friends. Everyone thinks I’m weird.

Me: You’re not weird. You’re unique.

Jackson: What does that mean?

Me: You’re one of a kind. I’d much rather have a kid who’s one of a kind than a kid who’s like everyone else.

Jackson: Well that’s nice.

Jackson cuts the water

If someone knows what else I should say, I’m happy to listen. He wasn’t moved by my efforts to comfort him but instead has continued to call himself “weird” every so often. (I’d love to know where he got that from.) I’m quick to correct him because the last thing I want either of my children feeling is less than.

And yet, that’s where we are so often – Jackson calling himself weird and Jeremy feeling insecure about his hearing impairment. I’d love to say that I’m the perfect example of a healthy self-image, but I fail miserably in that arena all the time. It makes me wonder if my boys don’t stand a chance at confidence because I’m unable to offer an example. Even though I don’t bum around the house being down on myself (which would be an obvious habit to break), perhaps I don’t exhibit a positive attitude in a way that promotes a healthy self-esteem. Telling my boys to be confident is much different from living by example with an intentional mindset of contentment. 

It’s something to consider, don’t you think?

in the Atlantic

What a careful balance it is – being your children’s cheerleader while letting them fail and suffer so they can learn to bounce back. I want to protect them from all the junk in the world, but that will only produce adults who flail and drown in a bubble of naiveté. They need to experience the lows so they can appreciate the highs. They must know sorrow so they can recognize joy.

By the way, no one tells you these things when your babies are all new and fragile and smell so good you think nothing will ever go wrong. No one warns you that one day your child may be so riddled with insecurity because kids are cruel and the world isn’t kind and you don’t know how to fix it. Here is your warning, new parents! Hold tight. Get ready. Take notes.


In keeping with the randomness of this post, I’ll leave you with another recent conversation I had with Jackson. Let’s end with a laugh, shall we?

Jackson: I’m sorry Mom, but my wife and I are only going to have dogs. No cats.

Me: No cats? Why?

Jackson: Because we’re dog people.

Me: What if your wife doesn’t like dogs?

Jackson: Oh, she will!

Me: But how will you know?

Jackson: I’ll buy her a ring, then I’ll get down on my knees and ask her to marry me, and then I’ll say, ‘Do you like dogs?’

Me: And what if she says she’s allergic to dogs and can’t have one?

Jackson: We’ll get rabbits!

1 Comment

  1. Jackson is amazing. He’s so full all the time! Full of life, full of excitement, full of curiosity. I tell my kids that it is much more fun to be “weird”, to be different and to go against the grain.

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