He felt guilty.
“Get job you bum!” Those were the words right out of my son’s mouth when I was asking if he had transferred any money over to help with groceries. He always does, I simply hadn’t checked first. I simply looked at him, then picked up my coffee cup and walked by him as he laughed, then stopped. oops. Feeling guilty now he immediately transferred enough to help with groceries and cover the power bill that had that morning showed up in my email. After work he came in saying that Charlotte Speedway had a half price sale going on trying to get rid of unsold merchandise did I want anything.
Am I thankful that my son felt guilty? No, of course not…even though supposedly I’m getting a bright pink hoodie because of his feeling guilty. He used to tell me I really knew how to play the guilt card, until he saw his grandmother in action. He hasn’t said anything in a while. So for what am I thankful? That God blessed me with such an amazing man for a son.
I was thirty-one when my son was born. I had pretty much given up on the thought and dreams of being a mother when God whispered, surprise. Then on that January morning that big, beautiful baby boy came screaming into our lives. When I say big, I mean ten pounds one half ounce, twenty-two inches long. The doctor did not say the congratulations you have a son, he said congratulations you have a line backer. As a toddler keeping up with him was a flat out exercise routine in its own right. Almost immediately after beginning school there were issues and he was one of the many diagnosed ADHD. I’ll skip ahead due to protecting and respecting his privacy but I will say that very few of the instructors he had over his school experience were good for him. Don’t get me wrong, there were those who loved him, who tried their best, and whom he loved and respected in return, but others not so much. And don’t get me started on the attention deficit thing.
My son earned a degree at NASCAR tech, graduating Dean’s Honor Roll. He got a job and began to show growing maturity.
When his dad, my husband, died, he really became a man.
He has stepped up in so many ways it is amazing. He’s learned how to do things he never had to bother with before. He has helped built fences, clear away yard debris, replace hot water heater elements, just a few among the many. He has made sure to take care of me and encourage me to move forward. He teases me about being a recluse (which is true in a sense) and works toward getting me out more. Camping in Tennessee, going to race weekend, going to Jeep events when he’s not working. And that’s just me. He also takes very good care of his grandparents as he is able. He does still work a full time job after all. And he knows, that I don’t get a job because I need to be here for my parents.
So he felt guilty, because it was meant to be said in jest and I knew that. Darn that weird sense of humor that was passed down to him by me that was gifted to me and my brothers from our dad. Knowing that, his comment didn’t really hurt, though it did sting a bit. After having worked the better part of my life, not working is odd.
I am thankful for my son. The one who has helped me in so many ways. The one who has been here for me, and who shows what determination and belief in self can bring about. The old soul who loves and respects but also takes no crap. Should that we all be blessed with family who loves us so deeply, who go far to help us when we need it, who seek what is best, who stand up to protect and during it all, remain true to self.