Asstr Son

Asstr Son
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I walked into my son’s school a few weeks ago to pick him up. He was sitting with all his friends waiting for me by the door and immediately got up when he saw me coming. Clearly, he didn’t want me coming anywhere near his friends. I got the feeling he didn’t want anyone to know he was with me. I was right.
As he got closer, he whispered, “Mom, why do you have to dress like that? Everyone stares at you.”
“No they don’t. They are probably staring at you because you are so handsome,” I told him.
“I blend in. They aren’t staring at me. They are looking at you. Why do you have to wear dresses and high heels?” For the record, I was wearing the outfit below. The nerve, right?
I decided I wanted to try something with my teenage son that day. I asked him if he wanted to dress me for a little while. I told him he could pick out my outfits and I would wear whatever he wanted me to wear as long as he had an open mind and would listen to a few things I had to say about people and the way they choose to dress, so that’s what we did.
I wanted to talk to him more about the subject and why he was feeling the way he was. And by having him choose my clothes for a while I would better understand why he wanted me to wear certain things, and maybe he would understand why I like to dress the way I do and that, really, it shouldn’t affect him as much as it does.
This was his choice for the first day. He picked out a very casual, sporty outfit, and I loved it.
While I dress like this about half the time and like this look, it doesn’t always suit me. Sometimes I feel like dressing up more, so I do. When I asked my son why he picked this out, he said because I “blended in and didn’t look out of place.” In his mind, when I dress up, I look like I don’t belong. If he only knew how many women I saw throughout the day wearing suits and heels maybe he would have a different opinion.
Regardless, I told him nobody should be judged based on how they dress — not even your very embarrassing mother . Most people wear what they are comfortable in, what makes them feel good. It doesn’t matter where it came from because this isn’t how we judge others. We focus on how they make us feel, if they are kind, how they treat people. I told him judging people for what they wear is very transparent, and he will be missing out on a lot in life if he is going to focus on making friends because of what they wear, what they have, or what they look like.
If he is comfortable dressing in a way that makes him feel like he blends in, I think that is great. However, I want him to have the inner confidence to step out of the box if he wants. If he feels like wearing something, even though none of his peers are, I want him to feel like he can.
I also let him know what someone puts on their body isn’t an invitation, for him or anyone else, ever. And he should always take heed on how he looks at people, especially women. There is a way to look at a woman without staring or gawking. No matter how you see her, she deserves respect. I don’t care what she’s wearing.
I also want my son to realize just because I am a mother it doesn’t mean I have to dress a certain way. I loved the outfits he picked for me, and dress like that on my own accord often. But I also love wearing dresses, heels, skinny jeans, and trying out new trends because that is who I am, and who I was long before I became his mother. It’s not my intention to embarrass him. It is my intention to be myself, and him making comments or telling me he doesn’t want to go anywhere with me because of the way I dress is hurtful (as normal as it is).
A few days ago, I discussed these “lessons” I was trying to teach him with a friend and she told me he would “take all these lessons and bake them into a gentleman pie.” I really hope she is right.

Part of HuffPost Parenting. ©2022 BuzzFeed, Inc. All rights reserved.
I’m not ready for him to graduate high school this June.
Writer, Blogger, and the mind behind My Dishwasher's Possessed!
Feb 22, 2017, 08:30 AM EST | Updated Feb 22, 2017
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Writer, Blogger, and the mind behind My Dishwasher's Possessed!
“Mom, this was the first time we ever saw a movie alone, just the two of us.”
I was watching my 18-year-old son, coffee cup in his hand, looking up at me between bites of his doughnut. We decided to grab a snack before heading home after watching “Hidden Figures.”
Wasn’t it just yesterday that I would walk him in his stroller to Dunkin’ Donuts? How could this man with the scruffy beard be the same toddler that I would hand-feed pieces of Munchkins to so he wouldn’t choke? And is it true, had we really never seen a movie, just the two of us?
“Yeah Mom. We usually are with Dad, or Lizzy and Peter, or Grandpa. This is the first time it was just you and me.”
The minute he said it, I couldn’t help myself from wanting a do-over. That’s it, he can’t be grown up, because we haven’t seen more movies together, just him and me.
It doesn’t matter that I’ve been an at-home mom his whole life. I got to see first steps, hear his first words, and watch almost every play, field day, and concert he took part in. We’ve had our share of mother-son dates. Who cares if this was the first time we saw a movie alone together? Kathy, get a grip.
I’ve had so much time with him. But selfishly, it doesn’t feel like enough.
I’m not ready for him to graduate high school this June and move on to college.
Yes, it was our first movie alone, but would it also be our last? It was just luck that we went to this one together. Usually he spends his weekends with his friends. But since he has been gone so much lately, he decided to take it easy and stay home with us. There’s no girl in the picture yet. Once that happens, I won’t see him much at all.
I’m ashamed to admit this, but I didn’t even really want to go with him. Or with anyone for that matter. I’ve been so stressed-out dealing with my daughter and her special needs as well as just the daily grind of being a mom of three that all I wanted was a few hours in a movie theater by myself.
I said a silent prayer of thanks that I listened to my better angels and said yes to a date with my son.
As my mind rambled on, I could hear Tom talking. The film moved him greatly. Of course he knew that racism and sexism existed, but it was different seeing it play out on screen. How is it possible that such abuse went on back then? Why is it that it racism and sexism still plague us today? He marveled at the strength of the women at the center of the movie’s plot and of the actors’ performances.
I had to keep willing myself to stay present because a part of me couldn’t get over that this young man who was so articulately discussing the film was the same kid who, as a small child, was so speech-delayed his preschool teacher told me she doubted he would ever lead a “normal” life.
I’ve watched him work so hard to overcome his dyslexia and do things that other kids took for granted. There were days when I wondered if I was up to the task of guiding this amazing person. Yet here he was, sitting in front of me, speaking of the history of NASA, and talking about about camera angles and set production.
I wish I could go back to that young mom who was terrified that her child would be OK. I would grab her and tell her that she should relax a bit and enjoy her child. It all worked out fine. He is getting ready to spread his wings and leave the nest.
Of course, knowing myself, I wouldn’t have listened.
So I snap out of my fog, and do my best to enjoy the moment I have. Sip my coffee and be glad for a date with my son.
This piece was previously published on Kathy’s site, My Dishwasher’s Possessed!
Writer, Blogger, and the mind behind My Dishwasher's Possessed!

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“They’re making babies down there,” my brother told my mom after walking in on me and a friend fooling around. Little did I know that he was right. That was the day I conceived my first child. I was only 16.
My mother was blasting Al Green like she did every Sunday when she cleaned the house. “No, we weren’t,” I tried to assure her, but I doubt she believed me. I was usually pretty open about my sex life with her. She had known for quite some time that I was sexually active. I probably could’ve just told her the truth, like I had many times before, but this time was different from the rest. This time I did it in her house, and my heart was still racing from the excitement.
You’d think the experience of being a teen mom would make me want to keep all boys at least 10 feet away from my daughter, or at least ban boys from her room. Certainly, I don’t want her to go through what I did as a teen mom. I want her to wait until she’s ready to experience motherhood on her own terms, until she’s lived life for herself at least a little bit.
But I know that trying to keep teens from having sex is impossible. If they want to have sex, they’ll find a way. I know this because I remember being a teen. I remember a dark moonlit bedroom not being a requirement for fooling around. I remember taking advantage of my boyfriend’s parents being at work. I remember the sex in parked cars, the park and garages. And I remember not being the exception — almost all of my friends were having sex.
Banning boys from spending the night wouldn’t have prevented my teen pregnancy. It won’t protect my daughter either. Not from pregnancy, or the other potential consequences of unsafe sex. If my daughter were to engage in unsafe sex with a person of any gender, she could contract an STD or STI. It would be completely irresponsible of me to ignore the possibility that my daughter isn’t heterosexual. If I am worried about boys, I should be equally worried about girls. It’s either no one can spend the night, or everyone can.
That’s the logic I used when I asked my mother at 15 to have a good friend who happened to be male sleep over.
“You realize I could be sleeping with my girlfriends when they spend the night, right?” I remember asking her. I identified as bisexual at the time, and she knew it. But I could tell she had never even considered the possibility that my girlfriends were anything more than friends.
“Well, have you?” she asked. “No, never,” I responded. “Well, if he’s just a friend and you trust him, I’ll trust you.”
My mom trusted me. After that day, she often let me have boys spend the night. Every male friend I had knew what my bedroom looked like. And although it may seem counterintuitive, this is what she did right. She understood and listened. She never judged or punished me for being sexual. She believed me when I told her that a boy was just a friend and nothing sexual would happen if he spent the night. She created an environment where talking about sex was natural.
But despite her trust in me, she also failed me. She never talked to me about safe sex . I don’t know why. Perhaps she intended to but didn’t know how, or maybe she trusted I was getting accurate information somewhere else. She never once mentioned birth control or condoms; she just vaguely mentioned staying safe a few times.
And it’s not that I didn’t know birth control existed; I did. I just didn’t know how to ask for it. Every time I confessed my sexual activity to her, I hoped she would offer to get me the pill, buy me condoms and teach me about safe sex with both girls and boys. I wanted her to teach me how to be assertive and insist protection be used. But she never did.
I won’t fail my daughter the same way. She’ll have my trust and guidance. She already knows about my own experiences and that I could never be mad at her for being sexual. I’ll give her support and information. She can have boys and girls spend the night just like I did as a teen, but unlike me, she’ll have access to condoms, birth control and information about STIs and STDs. The conversation about sex will be ongoing and comprehensive.
I know I can’t stop her from having sex, but at least I can help her stay safe.
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