---

I cringed. Now I’d done it. With thoughts scrolling through my brain as to what to say next, I held my breath. There is that ever-fine line between challenging your child, and pushing them too much.

Every muscle in my body tightened with parental guilt as I wondered, “Had I crossed the line?”

My son had rolled to the far corner of his bed and curled up with his back towards me; a sure sign that that conversation had definitely gone south in his eyes. Another sure sign was the silent treatment. A moment ago we were laughing and talking as my husband and I were tucking him into bed. Now, with the topic at hand, he was silent and sullen.

Maybe my timing was bad, but for the umpteenth time that particular school year, I had brought up his homework. Kevin was doing his homework, but was also forgetting to turn it in. He had forgotten to turn in six homework assignments that week. SIX! I knew it wasn’t on purpose, but I was flabbergasted how it was even possible to forget so much in just 5 days of school.

I looked at Kevin. All energy had left his body, and he almost looked lifeless. It was as if “playing opossum” would make the topic of conversation go away.

I shook off the mom-guilt and decided to press forward. “Kevin. We’re still talking.”

“What?” he mumbled.

“Kevin, you’re selling yourself short by forgetting to turn in your homework.”

Still silence.

“Kevin, talk to me. Tell me what’s going on.”

“I don’t know, Mom!” Kevin wailed. “I’m a failure and now you’re disappointed in me!”

Truth be told, I was more frustrated than anything else. I tried to bear in mind that this problem wasn’t about my frustrations, but about getting Kevin on track with his homework again.  

 “Kevin, Dad and I aren’t disappointed in you.”

He still had his back turned to us. “But you’re proud of me when I get good grades. You couldn’t possibly be proud of me for failing! And if you’re not proud of me then you must be disappointed in me.”

His words stumped me. He had a point. I couldn’t count how many times I had told him how proud I was for getting “A’s” or accomplishing something he had never done before. Almost daily, I told him I was proud of him for something he did great at school.

Weren’t parents supposed to tell their kids they are proud of them for all that stuff? Suddenly I felt so confused. This was that moment where I needed a wall to go hit my head against before I answered him. It was my mix between a Charlie Brown and Homer Simpson moment.

Why did my son always have a way of looking at life in the most complicated way possible?

I wracked my brain, trying to figure out if the emotion I was feeling was “disappointment,” or something else. Whatever it was, I had to figure it out fast. Kevin is like the Sherlock Holms of reading people’s facial expressions; he could easily tell what I was feeling and if I meant what I said.

“Kevin, disappointment is a strong word…”

My voice trailed off, hoping for the wisdom to uncomplicate his perspective.

“Kevin………..” I took a deep breath, hoping that the next words that came out would be the right ones.

“Kevin, I’m disappointed FOR you; not IN you. We’re bummed you’re dealing with this. You’re selling yourself short by forgetting to turn in your homework. But we’ve talked about it, and I know you’re going to work hard to get it taken care of. Deal with it and move on.”

I’m not sure where the words came from, but it was like coming up from underwater for air. Kevin’s complicated question had somehow brought clarity for the both of us.

He finally rolled over in his bed and looked me in the eyes; I could see the shame that he was feeling was melting away. “I’ll talk to my teachers first thing tomorrow.”

---

Then next day, Kevin proudly told me he had taken care of his forgotten homework, was forgiven by his teachers, and had even gotten an “A” in a math test.

For the first time ever, I bit my tongue. I wanted to tell him how proud I was of him for achieving that “A” and for taking care of the homework problem. I was gushing with pride that he had worked so hard to make it right with his teachers. But instead, I decided to say, “You worked so hard! You must be so proud of yourself!” He happily nodded in agreement, “Yes, I sure am!”

Later that night, when I tucked him in, I hugged him and whispered to him, “I’m proud that you work so hard in school. But even if you failed school, I’d still be proud of YOU. I’m proud because you work so hard to listen and obey what dad and I tell you. But I’d still be proud of you, even if you were disrespectful and disobedient.  I am so proud of who YOU are. I’m just proud that YOU are my son. You don’t have to do anything to make me proud; just be you.”

Sometimes I still catch myself telling my son that I’m proud of him for his accomplishments, but I am learning to allow him to be proud of himself, rather than ride the emotional rollercoaster of what others think of his accomplishments, good or bad. I learning to let my son to know that I’m proud of who he IS; no accomplishments, talents or skills necessary.

To tell someone that you are “disappointed in them” hits hard and personal. Being “disappointed IN” them pushes them away, and disconnects you both. Instead of them seeing that they “HAVE FAILURES”, it makes them see themselves as “A FAILURE,” with no way out. Being disappointed FOR them and WITH them connects you both and offers them a way out of their failures, with a way to redeem themselves.

Mom lesson awkwardly learned: let my son own his own accomplishments, and just love him unconditionally.