Tall

“I don’t like it,”, he said as we stood face to face.

“You don’t like being taller than me?” I asked.

 “Yes, I don’t like it.” 

“You’ve wanted to be taller than your friends for a while, but being taller than your mom is a bit strange isn’t it?” I replied in an empathetic tone.

“Yes.” he said with some relief that without explanation, I seemed to understand.

His vertical angst today caught me off guard as he has been longing for height for the past two years. His peers, in particular his female friends, surpassed him in height early on. It was in this moment that I was reminded that we are both adapting to his physical and emotional development. It isn’t just me that feels the pang of bittersweet emotion with his evolving independence and obvious physical transition into adolescence.

At times I find myself selfishly wallowing in this transition, feeling rejected and insecure. I quickly assign meaning over what his seeming withdrawal from my physical and emotional affection means. I am prone to catastrophizing and can take a very typical adolescent-parent interaction and turn it into an indictment on my poor parenting or a vision of the future.

And today, he put into words part of this bittersweet experience for both of us… “I don’t like it”.  He too is struggling with our changing dynamics; If he is taller than me, can I still be his safe place?  Does his surpassing me in height change my role in his life? How can he need me and resent me at the same time?

And likely, knowing Grady and his old soul, there is something in his angst about the passage of time. Something we share.

 I have to remind myself regularly of all that is happening for him in this developmental stage.  My feelings of rejection, insecurity, and uncertainty about my parenting identity are parallel to, or perhaps pale in comparison to, his development tasks of identify and autonomy. When I personalize his remoteness at the end of school day or pester him constantly with “What’s wrong? Why are you upset?”, that furthers the confusion and disconnection for both of us. Rather, he needs me to be steady. He needs me to not get triggered with my own stuff but to be that safe place that he can be distant, where he can express and explore his own identity and know that my love and acceptance is a constant.

I know we will both continue to experience the internal tug of war of inevitable, beautiful, messy change. I will try to be more mindful of when we both “don’t like it.” In those moments, I will aim to be taller than my insecurities-providing grounding, empathy, and perspective when he needs it and can receive it.  

As his vertical ascent continues, I hope he will realize that no distance between us can change the steadfast of my love and support.