Today I am the most proud mom

When my kids lived with me I felt like I had no control over when I could write, so I had to find happiness in helping my kids meet their goals. With both of them in college, I don’t set their goals anymore. So I’m trying to train myself to be happy when I write since that’s what I can control.

Meanwhile, I try to be an encouraging listener because I read that the thing that most influences college success (after the super-influencer: money) is parental encouragement in the student’s ability.

So today I was listening to Z talk about his gay friend at school who was verbally attacked. The friend froze. So Z intervened and told the people if they ever did something like that again, he’d beat them up.

My first response was, “Really? You could beat them up?”

“Mom, I’ve been lifting a lot of weights.”

I guess that is not the point, though. At that moment, he’d been brave. I said, “I’m surprised you were the one who said something. I mean, school kids get training to combat bullying, and you didn’t get that as a homeschooler.”

Z said, “Mom, I got that training from you every day.”

That made me happy. Because probably the only thing I consciously trained my kids in was to always come home for Thanksgiving and Passover.

As they got older, I got more specific. I told them that I knew I would have to give up holidays to their mother-in-law, so I didn’t need Mother’s Day. Or the High Holidays. I could compromise. But I wanted Thanksgiving and Passover.

There are some tactical problems with my plan, though. I mean, besides the fact that I can’t control my kids’ lives. The kids have school break for Thanksgiving but not Passover. This is the first year Z will be gone for Passover. And Y has a boyfriend, M, who I totally love, but he’s not Jewish. And I’m sure it’s the not-Jewishness that made Y decide that this was the year to skip Passover, as an experiment to see whether it still felt important.

I said, “Okay.”

I said it with as even a tone as I could. Not sad. Not surprised. I knew the minute I tried to be guilt-trippy or shaming, Passover was done for good. I told myself that this was an opportunity to fly to my youngest brother’s house. I did Passover with him for most of my adult life, so it would be nice to do that again.

Then, just as I was getting ready to buy a plane ticket, Y called: “Mom, I’m really enjoying my philosophy class. We’re studying cults.”

“Wow,” I said, “That’s a really different curriculum from the philosophy courses I took in college.”

Y said, “In class we talked about how an important part of a cult is the suppression of critical thinking and punishment if you question leadership. And I realized I’m really grateful to you for making my bar mitzvah about critical thinking. For my dvar torah I announced that god was too mean. And afterward everyone congratulated me.”

“This is true,” I said, “I was so happy that you had a bar mitzvah. It was really hard to get that done on the farm. Remember how the whole herd of cats sat by you while you chanted?”

“Yeah. So, Mom, I’m coming to Passover. It’s important to me. And I’m bringing M and a couple of friends.”

Right then I was jumping for joy. Happy happy happy! Not only had I made sure being Jewish wasn’t cult-y, but also, I’ll have a kid home for Passover. And friends. I can’t believe it. I’m kvelling.

I tried to play it cool, though. Because I don’t want my kids to feel like they’re responsible for my happiness. “That’s great!” I said. “I’m happy that you’re coming. And that M is coming. And I’m happy you’re bringing friends.”

I’m really happy. I’m happy that Z stands up to bullies, and I’m happy that Y is coming home for Passover. And now I’m really happy that I wrote a blog post today.