A Letter to my son on his 18th Birthday

Before my children were born, I decided to write a letter to them when I was pregnant, one when they were born, and one every year thereafter on their birthday.

My Darling Boyo,

Oh, my baby boy.  You are an adult now.  But you are still my baby.  I hope you know that you will always be my lil guy, even as you are picking out colleges and completing your last year of high school.

I thought long and hard about what I want to tell you now that you are 18.  I still haven't quite figured it out.  I am misty eyed as I write this -- thinking about 18 year old you, the adult (who is still in high school, though, so my rules still apply) and comparing the mythical him to the very real 4 year old I dropped off at preschool today.

At four, you have such a determination about you.  Your dad calls it stubbornness.  There is some of that too, but I see it as determination.  I hope you carry that into your adult life -- the determiniation and willingness you have to finish what you start, to see it through, and to do it right.

You are also such a sweet, silly preschooler.  I hope you are still sweet and silly, that you don't lose the ability to laugh with others and at yourself -- but never at others.

You are so delighted to see me when I pick you up, and you are such a social little guy.  Your friendliness and openness, your ability and willingness to introduce yourself to people you don't know, to talk and to play with them, will get you far in life.  PLEASE don't lose that.

The day is coming soon when you will leave.  Where I will no longer be your favorite person, no longer shake you out of bed in the morning, no longer be a part of your day to day life. There will be college and a career, some tramp girl who steals your heart, children, and so much more.  Knowing that our time is limited, I weep.  And I think, "Have I taught you all you need to know?  Have I covered all the bases?  Have I done my job?  Are you ready for this life?"

So as you stand on the cusp of your adult hood, your manhood, I have some advice for you, my son.  

Be smart.  Book smart, yes.  Gut smart -- even better.  If something feels wrong, it most likely is.  Trust yourself.

Say it.  Too often, men are told that to be strong, they must be silent.  I call bullsh@# on this one.  Say what is on your mind and in your heart.  Tell people when they are right.  Tell them when are wrong.  Tell people when you are angry.  Tell people when you are happy.  Tell people when you are sad.  Communicate.  

 Don't be afraid to fight -- but fight fair.  Don't be afraid to apologize first when necessary -- it's a sign of strength, not a white flag of surrender.   I'm raising you to be a strong man -- that means not being afraid of strong women.  Remember, your mom, your sisters, and (someday) your wife are all strong women -- it takes a strong man to stand up to them (remember what I said about fighting fair).  It also takes a strong man to let them take the lead.  Not all the time, but about 50% of the time.  And be a gentleman -- a woman can be strong and still want you to hold the door open for her.

Go big.  Even if you fail.   It takes courage to try when you are facing defeat.  Fail spectacularly.  And then get it right.  But remember -- there is no such thing as perfect.  Challenge yourself. 

Live a creative life.  Be wrong.  Be bold.  Be good.  Be nice to people. Be hopeful.  Be glad.  Be happy.  Be thankful.  Take chances.  Have adventures.  See the adventures in the ordinary -- you could be missing something extraordinary by not paying close enough attention.  Be curious.  Remember you have the freedom to choose -- but you must live with the choices you make.  Make your life matter.  Make the world better than when you found it  -- it matters not if you do this through big things or little things, so long as you do it.  Remember to pray.  Work hard.  Your life is your message to the world -- what do you want to say?

Remember you can talk to me about anything.
And I will always love you,

Love,
Mom