Watch.

I work part-time in the childcare room at a local gym and one of the perks of the job is that I can bring my six-year-old son with my to work when he isn't in school. I like this for two reasons, the first being that I don't like being away from him. One of the perks of my sobriety is that I actually like my kids and want to hang out with them. The second reason is that it eliminates the need for me to ask someone else to babysit.

Yesterday was the first time that the need arose for me to bring him and it was a rough night for us. I have written before, a long time ago, about Archer's personality. He is shy and introverted and he is weird as fuck. Just like his momma, damn it! I am proud to be raising another introvert because I LOVE the fact that I am introverted. I am proud to be raising someone as weird as myself. I love that I have grown into my weirdness and I love that he shows signs of growing into and embracing it sooner than I did.

But yesterday I realized that being a weird, introvert is probably easier for a twenty-eight-year-old who embraces it than it is for a six-year-old who doesn't completely understand it. I watched my son sit in a room full of kids and play alone. I watched him play contentedly for a while and then I watched him look up and watch them longingly. I stood there and observed as he tried multiple times to connect with the other kids and I held back tears as I watched him fail.

He would hear them say something about Pokemon or Minecraft and try to connect, because he had found a shared interest. He was ignored. He asked to play zombies, because he loves zombies, and was told that it was for "the family." I watched him sit in the corner and watch them play and I could see from his face that he was hurting.

I understand that my son is different. I understand his strengths and his weaknesses. I understand his heart and I know what kind of kid he is. He is amazing. He is a good friend, he's incredibly smart, he's funny in a very dry way, he loves animals, his kindness is unmatched, he loves to read, and he shamelessly loves his momma and his daddy. He also loves Jesus, which I think is pretty cool considering he is a product of Dave and myself.

The difficult thing is that he doesn't understand himself. He is six, so he isn't supposed to. He isn't supposed to understand that introverts have a tougher time in today's world. It is my job as his mother to keep him from needing to understand that any time soon. So, I did what I have done before and what I will do again. I fought my instincts, which was to say, "You kids HAVE to play with him," or even "You guys SHOULD let Archer join." I called my son over to me and said, "Hey, buddy, what's wrong?" My son said to me that he didn't like the games the other kids were playing, which wasn't surprising to me.

I told him that it is okay to play alone. That it is okay to want to play alone. I told my son that he has a choice, he can play a game that doesn't interest him because he wants the company of other children OR he can play alone and do what he wants to do. I also told him that introverts sometimes take longer to make friends and that we often have fewer friends and than our extroverted peers. However, I also told him that because we take longer we tend to have more intimate friendships and make stronger connections. Then I gave him an idea of something he could do to help me out and keep himself busy for a little while.

I knew what to do because I have read the books. I know how to be and to parent an introvert. I had to fight my instincts because I am a mom. All I want in the whole world is for my son to feel happy in his own skin. I want him to see himselff as I see him and to know that those qualities are high on the list of amazing qualities any person could ask for. I want to make my son feel good, but I can't. My job as a mom is to give my son the tools to find happiness within himself and to find completion within his own heart.

Being a mom is the most difficult and most rewarding thing I have ever attempted because it is the biggest battle between my survival instinct and the little voice in my heart that leads me down the right path.