Character Defects #s 5, 6, 11, and 23

So, I'm still working on Step Six. Becoming entirely ready. I thought I was doing pretty well until yesterday afternoon when I was hit in the face by the two-by-four known as reality. My middle son came home from school and, as he usually does, wanted to share with me the events of the day. He is a very passionate young man, very exhuberant. He is not unlike me when I was his age. And this, for him, has proven to be a challenge when dealing with a mother that doesn't particularly like herself very much.

Things started off as they usually do with the traditional, "How was school? Did you have any tests? How are your friends today?" Well, I should have stopped with the question about having any tests. He started telling me about his friend, Jill, who advised him (for reasons he will not disclose) not to wear his hair in the "liberty spikes" that he has come to love. And then the story went on to tell how Adam advised him to wear them anyway. So like a snake, ready to strike, I went at this poor child and his choice of friends. "What is with this kid? Does *he* wear his hair like that, or does he just like to stand around and laugh at *you* for doing it? Why do all of your friends have to be weirdos? Why do they all have such bizarre hairstyles, and piercings, and body art? Why can't you just have *normal* friends?"

After him saying, "That's it, mom. You have been banned from this conversation," and then leaving the room, I was left alone with my self-pride and judgement and hypocrisy. And that was a good thing. I was proud of him (after, of course, a good romp with my old friend anger). I was very proud of him for setting a boundary and keeping it. Once I went into my attack mode, he immediately cut me off. And after a few minutes, I was grateful for him doing that. Not only did it benefit him (not having to hear more rotten things about his friends) but it benefitted me too. It stopped me from spewing anymore venom at my child. It smacked me in the head that I was being a self-righteous hypocrite.

This whole scenario is a flashback to my own childhood. Both of my parents were *extremely* prejudiced. Their friends were all white Catholics, mostly Irish. There was no room for variety in their house. I only realized this was going to be a problem after fourth grade when I became best friends with a girl who happened to be Korean, and very good friends with a girl who wasn't Catholic, but Jewish. So, for most of my teenage years, I heard my share of racial jokes, with my friends as the punchline. And these were nice, respectful, extremely bright kids. None of them were leading me down a destructive path, quite the contrary. But they didn't look like my parents, therefore, they were not accepted.

So here I was, faced with the same wound that I suffered as a child, and instead of mending it, I added salt to it and rubbed vigorously. And today, I don't want to get out of it by saying, "It's different." It's not different. I'm doing the same thing to him that was done to me. I'm judging his friends and him. I've never even *seen* Adam or Jill and I already have it in my mind what they are like. I hated it when my parents would make comments about my friends or say, "Why can't you just get some *white* friends? What do you have against white people, anyway?" And here I am, twenty years later, with the question, "Why can't you just have *normal* friends?"

What is the deal? Am I just doomed to keep repeating history in these cases? My mind says no. My eldest son had some really "out there" looking friends. One even dyed her hair magenta. Actually, that was just the one time I saw her. My son told me she colored it a different color (think "Lucky Charms," not Miss Clairol) every month or so. But I had no problem with *her*.

Do I conclude that I am working out things from my past with this child? He is the one that looks most like me (minus the liberty spikes of course). And he is the middle child (me too). And he is the most codependent of the bunch. Sometimes I feel my self-deprecation has rubbed off on him in a variety of ways and that it manifests itself in his making himself physically unattractive. I don't know...I'm just guessing at this point.

I feel like a giant failure as a mother. And "being aware" doesn't even help at this point. It's actually making me feel worse, because now I can't blame ignorance on this mess. The only one to blame is me and the light speed at which I judge people and situations.

Yep, definitely 100% ready to let God have *these* character defects. The other ones, I'm still clinging to for now...