My son

So as I mentioned in yesterday's post, I have one son. One and only son. Six children and only one son. The worst part is, the poor guy really should have been an only child. He has that only child personality, as in he gets a little cranky when he's not being paid attention to. Or maybe the baby, that would probably have been okay. But he's the oldest....the oldest of six...and the only boy.

My favorite part of having my son is that he needs me. Yes, my daughters need me - but it's not the same. When my daughters need me, it becomes a teaching moment. How can I teach them to not need me? That is, after all, my job, right? I want them to make their own decisions, solve their own problems, make their own food, learn to live their own lives. I wasn't raised that way. I wasn't allowed to make decisions and when I finally had to, it used to paralyze me with fear. But my son.....when he needs me, I fix it. What is that all about? With him, I want to make it all better. But I have come to realize recently, I'm not helping and in fact, I'm probably hurting him. He just moved into his own apartment recently. He's still in college - he goes to a local campus of Penn State - and he moved in with some friends who are going there too. He also works so he thinks he's got it all covered. I'm pretty sure he doesn't - but at least he's trying. And I have to let him ..without fixing it. Of course he stopped in unexpectedly today, "just to say hi". And to mention that he's going to Main campus for the weekend....supposedly to visit his sister, among other people. He might have mentioned being a little short on cash due to all the bills he just had to pay last week, and I might have mentioned I had 30.00 I could slip him. The hug was worth it!