Mama Don't Play That

(Originally written June 12, 2021)

One of my sons had a birthday recently. I took him, my other son, and my toddler, out to dinner. The evening started out a little strained because lately our communication has been limited and stayed on the surface for fear of setting off a conversation bomb. However, I never would have predicted where it ended. He walked home from the restaurant while I drove the rest of my children back to their father's home. He didn't choose to walk, after enduring his comments and behaviors through the meal I planned and paid for, he pushed me too far. I snapped back and told him he was welcome to walk home on his own.

Last night, I sat in this stunned and handicapped space wondering how did I go from being the mom who planned the birthday celebrations and rituals of making each moment of the day memorable and significant to ending dinner on that note. Birthdays have always been special to me.

The parties I planned were elaborate themes of whatever they loved. I created handmade decorations and even though I am not a baker, I baked and decorated cakes. I planned and executed themed parties, which for him always centered around superheroes. When the novelty of parties wore off, we moved to a whole day and evening of fun with sleepovers. My house was filled with ten or more boys from cousins to friends and they partied and played all night while I prepared their favorite meals and snacks. It was never about the gifts it was the moments I tried to create that made their birthdays special.

In the midst of these celebrations, I held on to some birthday rituals that created meaningful and reflective moments to end one year and begin another one. They all heard their birth story of the day they were born. His was always the most entertaining because it was the only birth of the four I had without any drugs. Not by choice but because of his timing. He has always been one who moved to his own beat and challenged me to move outside my comfort zone.

After reflecting on the day they were born, everyone went around and shared what we appreciated about the person we were celebrating. It was the rare moment where my generally silly boys who rarely shared their feelings about one another, opened up and showed vulnerability and connections as siblings. It was beautiful and despite their father's reluctance and negativity, my children have engaged and welcomed the ritual. At the end of the evening, I presented them with either a handmade or store-bought card containing a loving and encouraging message or as some may say "book" inside.

Birthdays are meant to be special and highlight the gift of life the person in front of you has been given while also appreciating their presence in your life. So, I planned to take my children out for dinner since they would be with their father on his actual birthday. Then at the end of the evening, I made the difficult and hurtful choice to draw a line for my boundary of self-preservation and asked him to walk home because his disrespect was not welcome in my car.

We have entered a different place in our relationship and it came as a jolt to me. One morning I woke up and the close relationship I had with my boys became a distant acquaintance-ship I no longer recognized. Last night was the height of that as one of the most sacred days we have together, turned into a dramatic ending. Because although I love my children and have been devoted to their development and growth since they came into my life, I have learned that I need to love my peace and sanity more. I will no longer care for anyone so much that I sacrifice my own feeling of safety and need for respect around them. For a long time that distancing only needed to be with my ex, but now it's with boys as well.

I don't know where the turning point came from or what spurred the change. I can speculate that the unconscious messages they have grown around taught them that men in my life are allowed to treat me with that level of disregard and contempt without being held accountable. But then they are boys who experienced their mother leave their father in their vulnerable years of high and middle school. It could just be their own resentment and anger for my choice that impacted them. I may always be at fault in their eyes, and that is the consequences of my choices, but I do not need to carry the guilt of that in my heart nor pay a price for a decision that involved the actions of two people over time. So, I am not apologizing for my choice to create boundaries and take care of myself when it comes to my space and my heart even with my own children.

The biggest fear I hold in my heart is a distanced relationship with my children, but the truth is that I would rather that be the case than harm myself for the sake of someone else's comfort and lack of ownership of their own behaviors. He walked home while I drove his siblings back to their father's. When I told his father what happened it was clear in my ex's body language and eye rolls that he felt I was to blame. Maybe I was. But unapologetically so.

A few hours after returning home, my son sent me a text apologizing for his behavior and words. He knew he was wrong and at fault for shifting the tone of what should have been a beautiful evening celebrating his birthday and year as a family.

It's never easy to hold hard to our boundaries when we love the people we are creating those barriers from. But sometimes it is necessary for our own soul to stay safe and intact. On the rare occasion, that ability to stand strong in our conviction to ourselves will allow others to recognize the line they cannot cross into our emotional and mental spaces. I love my son, but at 19 his growing up and realization of the world is his journey to figure out. I will guide him and be present, but I will under no circumstances be his punching bag and outlet for resentment in the process.