He Did It His Way

This morning, my son went off to his first day of summer camp.

Our school offers an invite-only visual arts camp for two weeks over the summer. It's put on by someone or the other, which just means it's free for the parents. Only 25 students in the school of 500+ are invited, which means that a whole bunch of kids don't get to go.  One of my sons is going; one isn't.

If you know me, or if you read my personal blog with any regularity, you are probably thinking right now that it's great that 1of3 gets to go to camp, but the thing is that it ISN'T Mr. On Every School Team and Lunchtime Monitor and Honor Roll Student and Student Council Member, oh no. It's Mr Constantly Get Beat Up and Spends More Time in the Principal's Office Than Mom Does on Twitter and Has Monthly Parent Teacher Student Conferences. It's the kid who fights every day in school to sit still. It's the kid who can't remember to bring his backpack home and the kid who has to sit on a special seat in class just to make it through reading groups. It's 2of3, and it's killing his brother.

This morning, I thought about hopping on our city's website and finding a camp for the 11 year old to attend as well, to soften the blow, but I decided against it soon after. Why? Because my 9 year old needs this. He doens't need to go to a visual arts camp, but he needs to know that his strengths are indeed strengths and that they are valued and recognized. He needs to know that being creative and artsy is just as important as being scientific and scholarly. He needs to know that he can excel at something and that his brother doesn't have to excel at it first. He needs to step out of the shadow of his perfect big brother and see that someone thinks he's perfect, too, and I'm going to let him have this moment. I'm going to let him get something his brother doesn't get, something just for him, and I feel that if I go give his brother something, too, that it will take away from what he has. What he's earned. What he's being recognized for.

Yesterday, when I came home from the store with the school supplies they asked us to provide, my oldest son clamped right up in a huff of jealousy, and though my 9 year old didn't say anything, I saw the look on his face. I saw the glimmer of "Suck on THAT" in his eye, and that's just something we don't see a whole lot around these parts. This morning, my 9 year old got up early, put on his most capable-looking top and his linen slacks and smiled through his entire morning routine. He was early, he was agreeable, and he was proud of himself.

And I was really proud of him, too. Not so much for getting into a select camp, but for that look in his eye that told me he knew he'd done something, accomplished something, all on his own, independent of his brother. I am proud that he's braving to step out of his brother's shadow and just be the person he is. I'm proud that he's so artistic, and I'm proud that even though he can't sit still and he's never be an organized person and he'll always have to work a little harder than most to succeed, he WILL succeed. I watched him walk to the doors of his camp today with his shoulders back and his head held high and most importantly, I watched him go out on his way all by himself. 

My son, he's finally on his way.

{This is an original post for Canada Moms Blog by Mr Lady of Whiskey In My Sippy Cup, who will get so tired of the whining in 2 days that she'll enroll the other kid in something, and she knows it.}