Sheila Sims Iding
There are a lot of parenting stigmas that I never bought into. One was the terrible two’s. Two year olds are so curious and trying to gain some independence from total reliance on parents. They spend so much time discovering the world around them, the boundaries of discipline and the boundaries of their little lives. How can that be terrible?
I never bought into teenagers being challenging. They are discovering their own feelings, likes/dislikes, hopes/dreams and they are caught in between being kids and young adults. Their bodies and hormones and lives are changing faster than the Michigan weather. It’s the best time of their lives…and the worst…all at once. It’s such a challenging time for them but the teachable moments for parents embedded in the teenage years are golden.
And the one that I never, ever believed is that that you can’t be your kids’ friend. Everyone warns you have to be a parent…not a friend. Fortunately I never believed that. My boys have always been three of my best friends. I know there is a parent/child line. They dared not to cross it. I am not foolish enough to think that they told me everything. I almost hope they didn’t. That is a sacred rite of childhood. They get some secrets that parents shouldn’t know but there is plenty they did share.
I knew all about Joey’s best soccer goals…not the goals that show on a scoreboard but the ones that show in the heart. I helped him practice headers, I caught his pitching, worked on his bunting and practiced dancing for his first junior high dance. We talked alcohol, drugs and destruction of those goals and dreams and life lessons we had learned together.
We even talked disease and death and fears and hopes beyond hope. We argued about coaching philosophies, career paths and teenage decisions but we argued in a way that he would argue with a friend. It wasn’t an “I am in the mom” argument…there was nothing authoritative about it. It was a “what the heck are you thinking” argument. And, like friends, we agreed to disagree sometimes but the venue was always open for discussions.
I knew all about the latest soccer shoes and I knew the benefits of kangaroo leather for his “boots” and the attraction of those Copa Mundial shoes that were so cool. I understood why he loved Manchester United and #7, but I never got the attraction to Chet Lemon. When you get you first tattoo, you consult a friend. It’s not a decision you make on your own. You take a friend with you just to be sure. I got to be that friend (and so did his godfather, Fr. Brian.) How many parents get to be the friend to counsel the first tattoo? How many parents get to get the second tattoo with their son because the maple leaf connects their heritage?
It was the same with Tim and Adam. Tim taught me all about the current video games. I knew what level he was on in the Mario game and I knew which short cuts he had discovered to get there. I knew about the saint of the day and why he liked the new Eminem song so much. Something usually friends are privy too.
Adam let me sneak on his friendship list too. He educated me on the new hockey sticks and which flex was best for his defensive play. I knew his favorite classic car and how to bake hockey skates. I knew from all those hockey trips in cars together what dreams he had, what his favorite hockey player had done the night before and how he used his determination to never give up on anything.
From catch in the backyard, to coloring Christmas books, to hospital stays, to Rosary on Sunday nights, to dinner dates, to tattoo dates, to desperate phone calls, to disagreements, to sports conversations to watching TRL on MTV together, we were side by side through many of their childhood days.
This week Joey and I were side by side again. I saw the movie “Driving Miss Daisy” but I don’t remember it much. I just remember it was a kindly gentleman who drove around an older lady and made her days better because of it. This week I have had an educational conference in Grand Rapids that was kind of on the way to Joey’s work at the Meijer corporate offices, so we rode together.
It was nice not to have to drive there and back alone every day. What was even nicer was being side by side and being friends again. We discussed the Tigers’ game the night before and the one we would watch that evening. We talked about weddings and what gift might be fitting for his amazing bride. We talked moving furniture into a new apartment and moving lives into a new chapter. We talked about plans for the day and plans for life. We revisited memories and revisited time together.
Joey probably doesn’t know it but I keep talking about missing New York City. Oh…I miss “the city” stuff. Who wouldn’t? But the best part about NYC was the week in the summer when I would go stay with him. We didn’t do touristy stuff. We visited. We sat side by side and visited and talked and caught up just like friends do. The part I miss most about NYC is the time I spent with Joey just talking…like friends.
This week I got that back. He was so kind to drive me a bit out of his way each day but that wasn’t the greatest kindness. The greatest kindness was sharing his thoughts, his dreams, his opinions, his questions with me. It was how he listened to me as I probably went on and on about something. It was how he offered to bring me lunch every day. It wasn’t a week in New York City, but it was a chance to be with one of my best friends for two hours each day. The conference was good. The company of a friend was better and I miss it already. But I will be forever grateful for this week and for a kindly gentleman who drove an older lady around and made her days better. I will be forever grateful that Joey offered to be the one “Driving Miss Sheila”.
(Thanks, Jacques!)