Parental pride comes in many different forms. Some days I am proud of my boys for actually rolling out of bed and onto the floor, the step-one of getting ready for school, even if there are 23 other steps to get them ready to scoot out the door. Other times, deeper times, like Hud demanding to say goodbye to his dog on the night of her death, resonate longer and become part of my own parental tapestry, whether I communicated this pride to him or not.
Tasman is easy to be proud of, because of the effort he makes to do things right, and sometimes I take that for granted.
I forget how rich and heavy a parental hand can feel when ruffling ones hair for a job well done.
On occasion, I will turn off all distractions and sit my seven year old down on his bed and eye-to-eye him, explaining how proud I am for all the little things he does so well, which turns into a big thing, specifically during the swell and grind of daily life.
Hud I am more instantly demonstrative with, because his smile naturally turns down not up like his brother, constantly questioning his own emerging confidence. So he needs it more, craves it more, even without letting me know.
So this weekend, a day after him going to the big Me to We event in Toronto, I invited him to the RBC Run For The Kids, a charity run to support children’s mental health. He agreed and we set out in the pouring rain on Saturday morning amidst all the well branded runners. We slogged along, him underestimating the effort and me overestimating the difficulty, stopping very rarely to chug up the hills, finishing the race in just over 38 minutes. A bit slow sure, but we held hands crossing the finish line, smiling from ear to ear.
We decided to look for another 5k run in November and now that we have a benchmark, our next goal is to jog without stopping and beat our respective time by at least five minutes. The novelty of us passing the the finish line together, holding hands, will pass very quickly as his age and pink lungs will soon usurp my tired hefty ass.
But the swell of pride in my chest will last forever.