Confessions of a Daughterless Mother

Jackson was put on this earth to challenge me, not always (if ever) an in-your-face-teenage-boy-challenge, but a subtle request to do better. He challenges me to be my best, to follow my moral compass, to not only seek justice but to redefine it, to find it hiding in the nooks and crannies of life as we live it. Don't get me wrong, he challenges me in other ways as well -- many of them -- but none as important as his quiet request for me to do better.  He asks me to go hunting, he invites me to swim with sharks, he begs me to try hot sauce. He talks me into wake surfing and wants me to climb rocks with him when we hike.  He is the definition of "getting out of your box", in fact, he dances on his daily. I remember, very clearly, the day I knew for certain that Jackson would no longer be "the baby" and would move up a notch in the design of our family. He and his brother were running out the door, heading to Grandma's house. I knew a pregnancy test wa

I typically stay off of the "community" Facebook page for our little town. I find it mostly uplifting, but also find the complaining and lack of compassion at times too much to deal with. After all, I shouldn't walk away from reading my news feed irritated at random strangers for their narrow minded views, or their disagreement with my sensibilities. So, I usually stay away. The other day though, a post caught my eye. It was written by a father who had witnessed (with his daughter) the rather unkind taunting of a girl his daughter's age by a group of three same-aged girls in a public restaurant. The point of the post was to draw attention to bullying, to draw parent's attention to their children's behavior -- as it seemed during the interaction that the trio of girls were with an adult who seemed unaware of what was transpiring. It was a well-meaning, well-intentioned post -- and as I skimmed the comments waiting to pick up Aiden after school I remember