Friday, November 20, 2009

I asked Kyle to read the beginning of my book this afternoon. He did so happily and then proceeded to plant his face in his computer. He gave me my 15 minutes, told me he liked my story, and quickly fell back into his own world.

I tried to ask him to elaborate but all I got was, "It's good, Mom. What more do you want?"

I think about the endless hours I have spent helping him study for tests, write papers, organize his schedule. And now I feel like I am intruding on him by asking him his opinion on a few pages of my manuscript.

He has so little free time that I was reluctant to ask him to read anything other than his schoolwork. But I did so because I value his opinion. I got precious little from him.

The door bell rang and his SAT tutor was here to begin math prep.

It took me hours to research the right tutors and set up his schedule. He does the heavy lifting, but so do I. Do I have the right to feel short changed? Is it my job to help him without asking for anything in return? I don't know the answer to this question. I really don't.

I seems that he should want to help me. But I understand that he has so many other people and activities vying for his attention. I know I am not at the top of the list. I probably am not on the list at all. And that is probably how it is suppose to be--so then why do I feel so empty?

Is this feeling of emptiness preparation for the future? Am I suppose to finally wake up and say to myself, "Get a life?"

I'm trying. And I tried to include him. Wrong time. Wrong place.

For now, I'll take a deep breath, check my ego at the door and go back into my hole and continue to write. Maybe one day he'll read my book because he wants to--when I don't expect anything from him at all.




2 comments:

  1. "I know I am not at the top of the list. I probably am not on the list at all. And that is probably how it is suppose to be"

    Why is that the way it's supposed to be? Aren't we at least entitled to expect from our children some respect and attentiveness? We're people, too. But if you don't let them know you expect it, you're not like to get it.

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  2. Hey, totally understand you here. I have asked all my older children (ages 13, 17, 18) to read my book mss. (and they are in a lot of it, as it is a memoir) and so far only one has obliged. I feel like they will read it when it feels right to them and in the meantime it really is 'my' thing and I don't want to shove it down their throats. Hard call. I understand the questions you pose here.

    judy in new york
    justonefoot.blogspot.com

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