More possible
I’m cooking dinner as I glance at Jackson across the room, he’s watching TV and holding Adelaide’s hand. It’s 2017 and I’m noticing how his face is getting leaner as he outgrows his baby cheeks.
“Hey, Buddy?” I say to get his attention.
“What?”
“I love you.”
“I love you more.”
“I’m sorry, but that’s just not possible.”
“Yeah, it is.”
It is a wild experience to watch your child grow older. Even if they aren’t hitting traditional milestones, their faces change, their hair color darkens – they age. I saw it in small ways with Adelaide, she got longer, her hair thicker. She never had the opportunity to outgrow her chubby cheeks or those delicious thighs, but Jackson has. Perhaps because I have one child that will never grow up, I’ve grown keenly aware of every change in Jackson’s appearance and personality. Or maybe this is just part of normal parenting – the shock and awe of watching a human grow and mature right before our eyes, (admittedly, I have a difficult time gauging what is normal and what has been affected by Adelaide).
“Hey, Buddy?” I call out to Jackson as he heads out the door to walk to school. It’s 2021 and as a big ol’ fourth grader he can walk by himself.
“What?”
“I love you.”
“More possible!” He says quickly before closing the door behind him so that he can get the last word.
Over time ‘more possible’ emerged as Jackson’s way to trump my argument that it was impossible for him to love me more. Eventually it became a sort of game or competition as to who could say it first:
“Hey, Jackson?”
“More possible!” He would blurt out pre-empting the ‘I love you’ he could see coming in my eyes.
It was also our code word. When Jackson was performing in his school show this year he got upset after making a mistake at the only performance his dad would be able to attend. His teacher asked me if there was something she could say to him that would help him calm down and reset. I didn’t hesitate.
“Tell him, ‘more possible’.”
“More possible?”
“He’ll know what it means.”
As he winds up his last year of elementary school and I begin to mentally prepare for his entrance to middle school in the fall, I find myself desperately holding on to these moments when he still needs me so overtly. I know he’s going to need me for the rest of my life just as I still look to and lean on my parents, but obviously the goal is to raise independent people that can go out into the world on their own. Moving forward he will need me less and less as he looks to himself and others for the support he once found only in me and his dad.
Throw into the mix the early trickle of hormones entering his system and the fact that he has inherited my big feelings and I can sense that these tween and teen years are going to be quite the ride. Already, he’ll be cuddling up next to me on the couch to watch a movie together and a couple hours later the world is ending because he has to take a break from playing video games online with friends to empty the dishwasher.
Navigating both our wildly varying emotions is going to take a learning curve. I’ve already picked up a teen parenting book and have started following some teen parent accounts for solidarity. I know there will be moments where I wish he could just be my sweet little boy again instead of the raging and anxious man-child he is growing into. But I’m also really excited to see the person Jackson chooses to become, the friends he makes and the interests he dives into.
To brace for the more challenging days ahead of us, I decided to get a permanent reminder of the little boy who swore he loved me more than I could ever love him. A couple weeks ago I got ‘more possible’ tattooed on my arm. Jackson did not think it was nearly as awesome as I wanted him to.
“Yeah, mom, it’s really cool, but I have a ton of homework, so can you leave me alone please?”
“I just thought you should know because I now officially win all future ‘more possible’ competitions.”
“Only until I’m old enough to get a matching tattoo.”
That’s my boy. I start to walk out of his room.
"Hey, Mommy?"
"Yeah, baby?"
"More possible."
Image description: Jackson is standing in front of Kelly and her arms are wrapped around him as she rest her chin on top of his head. She is wearing a pink shirt with puffy sleeves and Jackson is wearing a hot pink sweatshirt and red, white and blue winter beanie. A script tattoo can be seen on Kelly’s forearm that reads “more possible”.
