Goodness Sucks

Our boys truly tested my strength as a mother and as a good person. So many times I've had to choose to do the right thing when I might have otherwise chosen my own selfish wants had it not been for the four sets of brown eyes watching my every move. Ask any parent of a musical child: elementary and middle school concerts are painful. We go to be there for our kids, to show our support for them and their classmates who have worked hard to bring us the joy of music. B and I reluctantly attend every concert, every fundraiser, every game in which our teenage son carries that cumbersome sousaphone while marching in step with his band. We sigh ever time an event comes up, but we show up. We sincerely congratulate them and his mates for a job well done. While the bleachers numb our buns and cause excruciating sciatic pain, we endure for our sons. They are our world, and I believe they know this.

Tonight I witnessed a side effect of our constant, if sometimes challenging, love. Our eldest was faced with a moral dilemma. He chose what was right over his own desires. He didn't like it, but he made the right choice without a guilt trip from me. I didn't have to tell him what was right; he knew. He grumbled and tried to take his cake and eat it too, but realized he had to make the decision to do what his conscience dictated. I am terribly proud of that bratty, moody, infuriating teenager. It sucks being good, but that's what makes life worth it. Every once in a while our parenting is highlighted in a positive way. Today, we won the gold.