Loving them differently

I wouldn't necessarily say that I had a bad childhood. I also wouldn't use the term "neglected"... but yet, my childhood left me always feeling unloved. Not that I think my mother didn't love me, but that I was not loved in an active sense. It's complicated. My mom was single with two teenage boys and me, a scrappy little first grader. She had to work a lot to make ends meet. I remember being shuffled from the sitters to my brothers care, to bed. I remember my mom sleeping while I dressed for the bus. Sleeping while I went off to Sunday school with the neighbor. Sleeping while I watched endless cartoons and ate Oreos by the stackful. I remember being alone after schoool, scared and crying... waiting - always waiting - for my brothers to come home. There was no Brownies or Girl Scouts. No mom along on a field trip. This is not a crime, it's simply a fact. My mom did the best she could with what she had. As I got older, as my brothers moved away, as my mom remarried, I was just so independant. It's no wonder that when I was 16 I was nearly completely responsible for my own whereabouts. I remember just showing up, or not, and it always being ok. My mom was often napping on the couch in the evening after work and my step father snoring in his recliner waiting for dinner, or for dessert, or for bedtime. Such sleepy people.

Tonight Buddy's friend called and wanted him to meet at the local soccer fields. It's about 6 miles from us, on the corner of two busy roads. I drove Buddy there and was fully expecting the other parent to be present. She wasn't. I pulled up to see Buddy's friend and a bike and a handful of other kids roaming the field and the adjoining playground. While Buddy's friend is in the same grade, he is nearly two years older. Buddy's on the young side for his grade and his friend is on the older side. But still. Buddy is only 10. I wasn't going to leave him, alone, at this soccer field. Where are those registered sex offenders living? Maybe in the neighborhood surrounding this field? Maybe across the street? Maybe walking home from work and passing by this field. Maybe. Not a "maybe" I wanted to really play games with. Fortunately I had a good book in my purse. I sat, heater and radio on, and read for nearly 40 minutes while the boys played.

When the other mom showed up, she reasonably explained that her son would be biking to Jr. High next year as they don't get bus service and this was one of his first times out alone as he slowly worked his way up to being able to handle biking 1.5 miles to school on his own. I understand. And if Buddy were in the same situation, I might be doing the same thing. Or not. I also might be willing to leave the house earlier to drive him and then go get a coffee to waste a half an hour until it was time to take my other kids to school. I might think about how else I could get a 6th grader to school other than setting him loose and free in an area that is, honestly, not conducive to pedestrians.

This is not a friendly world we live in. And I say that from a small rural town with large lots and lots of trees and running into your pastor or soccer coach in the grocery store. I come from a place where you feel safe... most of the time. Maybe I am over protective or maybe I am slightly paranoid. But never, NEVER, let it be said that I was neglectful of my child. Or that I was uncaring. Or that I wasn't "there" for them. I have the opportunity to "be there" and I fully intent to live up that. I will love my children differently that I was loved. I will love them tangibly and with every ounce of my heart.