Perfectly Weird

Posted on | February 28, 2014 | 7 Comments

There are times when I’m certain being a mother is the hardest job in the world. Times, like last night, when my son is hurting and I’m hurting double for the sorrow of him and the sorrow of my own heart at his sadness. Times when the world says something about your son is wrong, is different, is strange or weird and you want to stand on the top of the tallest building in the world and shout to the masses that NOTHING is wrong with who he is or who he will become.

Last night, someone on J’s t-ball team told him he was weird, or more specifically “the weirdest one on the team” and it hurt his feelings. He sat in the back seat of the car and thought about the words for a while, maybe wondering what they meant and maybe just wondering if he even cared. I told him “weird” was “cool” because dammit, my kid is cool. And I hugged him close when we got home and whispered in his ear that I was weird and he still loved me and if he could love me when I’m weird, then he better damn well love the weirdness in himself, too. Because weird makes us interesting, you know?

As I tucked him into his bed and kissed him good night, I felt particularly blessed to be this particular child’s mother. He’s weird in all the good ways…. funny and insightful, curious and loving… it’s his awesome weirdness that makes me love him so ferociously. But it got me thinking about how we see our children, years and years after they’ve left childhood behind. Do they ever get older in our eyes? Do they ever stop being these sweet, weird, precious beings who we want to protect until the life is sucked from our bodies? Somehow I doubt it. Somehow I think that no matter how big, how accomplished, how “grown” they become, they are always three and four in our eyes. So maybe the next time I start to think someone is weird, maybe I’ll try to see them with the eyes of their mother. See the innocent, wide-eyed wonder on their face. Picture them as they must have been and remember that to someone, somewhere, they are still that person.

I wondered what it must feel like for the mothers of sons and daughters who are told by the world they are “weird” because of how and who they love. How badly does it hurt to know that people in the world look at your child and whisper to them that they are wrong, that they are weird or strange or somehow broken simply because they love differently. How badly do those mothers want to climb to the top of the tallest building and shout out “I made this child in the depths of my soul and he/she is PERFECT just as they are.”

Because they are, you know. They’re perfectly weird… just like the rest of us.

To those moms… the ones who are doing that on a daily basis, who are rising up and taking charge and getting mad and stepping outside the neatly drawn lines to fight for acceptance for their babies, even if they’re grown… to those moms, I say well done. I don’t know how you don’t slap or punch or kick people on a regular basis. Because my son got called weird and it almost broke me. May the world one day realize that we’re all uniquely special no matter what we look like, who we pray to, or who we love. May the world realize that we are all amazing and worthy of love and respect and yes, deep down in our souls…

We’re all perfectly weird in all the right ways.

Comments

7 Responses to “Perfectly Weird”

  1. KeAnne
    February 28th, 2014 @ 11:07 am

    Love this. My son is wonderfully weird and quirky too. I was a weird and quirky kid myself and while it wasn’t fun, it KILLS me to think of someone looking at him and not thinking he’s perfect and wonderful. Breaks my heart into teeny tiny pieces.

  2. Law Momma
    February 28th, 2014 @ 1:01 pm

    I know. It’s awful. I wish the whole world could walk around with a pair of mother glasses or something. (Does that make sense?)

  3. Noelle in LA
    February 28th, 2014 @ 11:48 am

    What a beautiful post- thank you!

  4. Law Momma
    February 28th, 2014 @ 1:00 pm

    Thank you! 🙂

  5. Santa Claus
    February 28th, 2014 @ 12:38 pm

    Wonderful! Love is the greatest gift! Blessings, Santa :-)}

  6. Law Momma
    February 28th, 2014 @ 1:00 pm

    So very true.

  7. Roxanne Piskel
    March 1st, 2014 @ 5:52 pm

    Perfect. Celebrate the weirdness!

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    Spilled Milk (and Other Atrocities) by Law Momma is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.
    Based on a work at http://www.law-momma.com.
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