The wisdom of youth
Tuesday, April 05, 2016
It's approaching 2 am, and about an hour ago I tucked the kid into bed. She's 16, an inch taller than I am, and is more savvy than I am willing to acknowledge. But she still wants to be tucked in by her mom every night.
And I've been sitting here thinking that at this stage of the game, it feels like I'm learning as much from her as she is from me. She's tougher than I thought. She had knee surgery four weeks ago, and her knee looks like Frankenstein's. She's got two long scars and one short one, puckered by the straining stitches.
I can't help wincing silently and mentally when I see her poor abused knee. Those angry welts remind me of injury and pain that I couldn't protect her from. But do they bother her? She'd be wearing shorts and skirts with her usual confidence, if the weather weren't literally freezing these days.
The kid goes to physiotherapy every week, where she's given a new set of exercises each time that she then does two or three times every day at home. She still has to make up one more exam that she missed during her week at home after surgery, so she has had a heavier dose of schoolwork to catch up. The poor kid had a short cry one night when she was a bit overwhelmed, but she kept plugging away and by the end of tomorrow she should be all caught up.
So I look at this kid, who is trying her best bravely every day, and I can see that some days have been really tough. And I look at myself, and am a little ashamed that when my days get tough I turn to food. My kid is better at dealing with stress than I am - how did that happen?
Well, I am going to learn from this. I'm going to be as tough as my kid. I'm going to deal with stress without stuffing my face. Maybe I'll let myself cry a bit too when it gets to be too much. But I'm going to learn to just keep plugging away like my kid, with faith and hope.