Big Lessons, Small Teachers

Hey Guys,

Where do I even start? I'm not sure I have the words to adequately express what I want to say, but I'll give it a try. In the 50 years I've been on this planet, I've met a lot of people and learned a lot of things. I've had great mentors and teachers that have held me up when I needed it. I've had some that weren't so great, that knocked me down when I didn't need it. I've got more years of formal education and pieces of paper attesting to that knowledge than I know what to do with. And I've been taught a harsh lesson or two from the School of Hard Knocks. From all of them, the good, the bad, the formal and the informal, I've learned a great deal.

But, you know what? You know who taught me more than all those people, all those classes? You know who taught me more about life, myself and my place in the world than anyone or anyone else could? Three little babies. My three little babies. And you each, in your own special ways, taught me different things, things I needed to learn.

Justin, you came first. I was 18 when you were born. You were 8 pounds, 6 1/2 ounces of pure perfection! True to the personality you ended up having, you showed up right on time, on the very last minute of your due date, May 31 at 11:59 pm.

You were a surprise, to say the least. In fact, I wasn't sure I was cut out for motherhood. I was fairly certain I lacked the ability to put someone else's needs ahead of my own. I was fairly certain I didn't even want to try.

But there you were and I instantly fell in love with you. You were so small and so helpless. I knew when I first saw you that I'd give my life for you. You showed me my capacity for love and selflessness. You taught me what it meant to love someone in a way that was pure, true and unconditional. You shit in my lap and peed in my face and I didn't care. You taught me to look outside myself. It was something I needed desperately to learn.

You also taught me how to love and accept myself. I've never met, to this day, another human on the planet that is so perfectly comfortable with who they are. I was in awe of you as a little boy! At 3, someone told you you were handsome and you said, "I know."

You never cared what people thought. You never followed trends. You just did you and you still do. Before you, I was terrified to do that. You taught me not to worry about what other people think of me, because they rarely do.

Next came you, Jordan. My adorable little cherub with the face of an angel and the temperament that would drive one to the brink of insanity.

You taught me several things, chief among them patience. You were the most adorable, energetic, charismatic, clever little guy, but you could have driven Gandhi himself to a fit of rage! You were a handful from day 1. You didn't want to sleep through the night. You wanted to eat every hour on the hour and you'd raise 17 kinds of hell if I didn't jump through your hoops.

Your terrible twos started when you were a year old and lasted three years after that.

You refused to wear shirts with pictures, emblems or pockets. You refused to let me take your snow boots off. You refused to wear anything but jogging pants for 6 months.

You threw yourself on the floor and stripped your clothes off in the mall when you were 18 months old and called me selfish in front of a crowd.

You stole a chocolate bar from the checkout shelf when I told you no, looked me in the face and bit into it, wrapper and all, knowing somehow in your 2-year-old mind, that I'd be forced to buy it.

Do you remember what I did? I bought the thing and then ate it in front of you. It was a Big Turk. It was gross. But I choked it down, just to teach you a thing or two. Could you not have taken a good chocolate bar? I'm asking for a friend.

When you were 11, I tried to ground you and you accused me of violating the United Nations Convention on The Rights of The Child.

You challenged me at every turn. Every. Single. One. You were too smart for your own good. You were the child my mother wished on me. You know, that kid that's just like me. You questioned everything. You challenged everything. Every day was a battle. When the tantrums ended, the debates began and often, you were outwitting me. Because I said so just didn't work with you.

You did the same thing at school. Challenging teachers and the principals. I'd get a call. I'd go in. And I'd find out that more often than not, they, not you, were in the wrong.

Yeah, patience. You taught me to have an abundance of it, for the schools, for you and myself. I can't tell you the number of nights I sat up crying with worry because I was terrified that your insistence on doing things your way would result in disaster. And sometimes it did. But, it seems to have paid off. You're 29 and a pretty great guy.

Finally, Jeffrey, my sweet baby boy. I remember saying you were going to be my last child, and you were. You came into this world almost exactly 48 hours before Jordan's 2nd birthday. And you were different. You were easy. You were the happiest little fella I'd ever met. From day 1, you were just pure love and joy.

You slept through the night. You greeted me with a smile and outstretched arms every morning. You were the happiest baby the world had ever seen. And you taught me acceptance.

From the time you were a small child in school, you had an amazing capacity to embrace and love anyone, from anywhere. You were the kid that befriended and defended the awkward, the unpopular, the downtrodden and the foreign (in a town that didn't see much diversity).

If someone was being bullied, you were the one to stand up. If a new kid came to town from a far off land, you were the first to offer friendship. Okay, it was mostly so you could get a shot at trying their traditional dishes, but still, you were the one that did that.

You were the kid that stood firm for what was right. You were the kid that refused to tolerate hate. And although I kind of already knew that by the time you came along, you taught it to me in a different way. I can't say that I would have had the strength to go against the crowd to offer friendship to an outsider like you routinely did. I was an outsider and not nearly as strong in myself and what was right as you were. I'd like to think I would have been, but honestly, I doubt it. And to this day, at 27, you're still the defender of right. You still reach out to, befriend and accept those many in society cast aside.

You also taught me not to be such a snob, to get my head out of my ass. After finally finishing university and law school, I was determined that my children would get the very best education. All 3 of you were, and are brilliant. You were going to university. No discussion. You were.

You didn't want that. I fought you. I fought you hard. Honestly, I was insulted that you weren't jumping at the offer. I was horrified. But I got over it. You taught me that as a parent, we have to let our kids lead their lives, not ours. It was a bitter pill for me to swallow. It was one I needed.

I had all 3 of you by the time I was 23. In many ways, we all grew up together. And for as much as I hope I taught you, I'm certain you taught me more. You made me a better person, and for that, I'm forever grateful.

Love,

Mommy