An earnest kid who still screws it up

I remember—I mean really remember, like I mentally inhabit it—a key thing about being a teenager. Want to know what it is?

No, it’s not being maniacally horny to the point of being driven nuts by, say, magazine photocopier ads in which 3/4″ of a woman’s midriff shows. (You know, for example.) But that’s definitely in the running. A merciless libido is not a blessing.

Nathan just turned 12. I’m beginning to see something in him that I remember very well. I hope it’s going to help me deal with it effectively.

I can remember needing to keep several responsibilities in my head, and knowing I needed to, and trying really hard to execute all of them, and nearly never being able to, and feeling really bad about never being able to, but being utterly powerless to improve my performance at such.

Are you following? I have, say, seven balls to keep in the air. I consistently drop one or two of them. I feel terrible when I do. I know I need not to drop them. I try as hard as I can not to drop them.

And I would still drop them. The defeat would cover me like cold molasses.

I remember how viciously unfair it felt to me to know that I really had tried my best, and to still be punished for my failure.

And I see and hear that same frustration beginning to develop in Nathan. Wow, does it ever suck to be an earnest kid who still screws it up.

God, please help me balance empathy and guidance. Please help me do all of the positive directing I can do toward adulthood.

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