The Big 1-3!

Well, sort of.

My husband is putting our baby to sleep, as he often does to give me a few moments peace.  My oldest is kindly getting ready for bed. It’s that lull at our home that, in my opinion,  doesn’t come often enough.

But this is really jsut the calm before the storm.

You see, yesterday we finalized the plans for a whole new chapter in our life as a family. And tomorrow, my oldest turns 13.

The big 1-3. A teenager.

He would say “FINALLY!”  I am a little more reluctant, and perhaps feeling a bit of melancholy abot the whole thing.

See, he started life as “an accident”. I was single, but not unattached. It was what I still call “my young and stupid days”, and I had no intention of becoming a single mom. And I began the mom journey with a LOT of resentment.

Don’t get me wrong – I have always loved my child. I spent most of his early years second guessing myself and my parenting skills all the time.

So now that I’m older, more experienced and able to appreciate what a greeat kid he’s become, I have to get ready to say goodbye.

Not just to him being a kid, but to him.

The bulk of this story will be chronicled on a special blog I’m keeping over at Working Mother’s MomBlog, but I wanted to make sure I at least introduced it and made periodic mention of it here.

You see, during his “growing up” process, my oldest has been diagnosed with several serious mental health issues. ODD and ADHD are just the tip of the iceberg. His emotional instability has led him into violent and destructve behavior that has given us what I think is more than our fair share of visits from Child Protective Services, the local police and countless therapists, social workers, dotors and hospitals.

Tired of the medical and governmental run-around, which essentially only made matters worse, we’ve taken matters into God’s hands and found a residential program designd specifically for boys just like my son. The average length of stay is approximately 18 months.

It’s called into question nearly everything I’ve ever believed about being a mother, a business owner, a wife and even some of my ideas bout faith. I’ve wondered if I’m doing the right thing, if I’m being a bad mother, and if I’ve really tried everything I know how to do.

And in the midst of all this second-guessing, he’s turning the big 1-3 tomorrow.

AndI couldn’t be more anxious and happy and nervous and excited and overwhelmed and grief-stricken and faith-filled and concerned and joyous and relieved at the same time.

It means many changes for my business, my brand, my family, and most importantly, my son.

Which is a big reason why The Renaissance Mom was born. Because I’m finally ready to embrace my mommy-ness, I guess. And because it isn’t easy. And because I wanted a place where it was *safe* (at least as safe as you can expect it to be online and in business) to share our story.

Forest (that’s his name) and I will both be documenting our experiences with his residency, which we hope will culminate in a book for release upon his graduation from the program. As I said, the bulk of the story will be told at the Working Mother site, but you’ll be able to find the highlights here as well.

This is a big, very public step in what is also a very private matter. Normally, I wouldn’t reveal such private details, but my son and I have agreed that this journey holds an important message for other families dealing with situations similar in nature. If we can offer even a bit of help/hope for others, it is part of our duty to extend that help.

So in the morning, when I rise, wipe the sleep out of my eyes, I’ll be heading to the local DQ to pick up the icecream cake – the last birthday cake I’ll share with my son for at least two years, possibly more.

I’m sure this can and will alienate a few people, moms, etc. I welcome your thoughts, feedback, and of course, your prayers.

But please leave the “old lady” jokes at home.