I love you so much I didn't make you cupcakes

If you didn’t know already, I went back to work about a month ago. It was completely random and unplanned – the company I worked for years ago called and offered me a position that I didn’t apply for. In fact, I don’t even own an updated resume and haven’t officially applied for a job since college. So with absolutely no warning or preparation for my family, I went back to work. Now that I’m a month into it, I can safely say I love my job and have nothing to complain about. It’s like I’m not even me anymore.

Then, yesterday, I was talking to one of my son’s teachers and she made a passing comment about how sad he seems. She asked, “Do you think he’s having a hard time with you going back to work?”

That question weighed me down for the rest of the day. Ten years ago, part of the reason I quit my job was because I didn’t feel I could do everything well and I’m a compulsive perfectionist. I felt guilty. Maybe I didn’t give my son enough time to adapt or prepare him. Maybe he’s miserable and it’s all my fault.

After school, I asked him if he was okay. He said, “Fine.” But later, I found this on my bed:

My ten year-old son's ability to communicate blows me away. Most grown-ups aren't emotionally astute enough to recognize "what really stresses me out is my expectations for myself."

So last night he and I talked. His sadness has nothing to do with me working at all. He’s upset about the dynamic in his math classroom. He’s frustrated because he feels he and one of his teachers can’t communicate and math has always been his best subject. Yes, he’s upset, but it has absolutely nothing to do with me. And as we talked, he came up with a plan for how to handle his problems.

He let me off the hook. It isn't my fault. Even when something goes wrong in my child's life, it isn't always my responsibility to fix it for him. Last night reminded me that working doesn't change my relationship with my child.

This morning I woke up, helped the kids get off to school, and then sat down to check my work email. But instead of opening Outlook, I opened Word and wrote this.

Dear C,

I love you so much that I didn’t bake you cupcakes. I taught you your alphabet and read to you and made up silly songs with you, but I didn’t worry about looking perfect in front of the other moms in your class on party days.

I love you so much that I didn’t hover in your classrooms while you were trying to learn. I’ll always fight for you to have a fair chance, but I’ll never fight for you to have special favors or privileges. You know how to work for those and gain them on your own merit.

I love you so much that I don’t buy you gifts other than for holidays and birthdays. I don’t bribe you for grades or to perform at sports or to do your best. I don’t offer rewards for good behavior and discipline. But I know from your attitude and perseverance that you know those things are their own reward.

I love you so much that I never did your homework for you. On the nights when it was difficult and you wanted to give up, we talked and cried through it and your grades always reflect your hard work.

I love you so much that I never did try to solve your problems for you. I will always be your biggest fan, your sounding board, and hopefully the person you can tell anything to. But I also have faith in you. Faith that you can handle life when it gets rough. And no matter where I am in this world, I’ll never be more than a phone call or FaceTime away for you.

I love you so much that I won’t live through you. I won’t pressure you to do or be anything for me. I’ll have my own interests, my own life, and I won’t make you fill a void in me. I love you so much that I want you to have the opportunity to be exactly who you want to be – for yourself.

Love,

Mom