Dear Miles,

As we’ve known since your first weeks of life, you can be easily perturbed.  You’re a dynamic person; one day or hour you can be kind and sweet, and the next you’re crabby and brimming with negativity.  I’d blame it on your pre-teen transitional life stage, but frankly, you’ve always been that way.  We’ve seen plenty of examples of your friendly side lately.  You and Callum have a routine you do at bedtime in which you quiz him about the planets.  He knows which one is the biggest, which ones have rings (it’s not just Saturn, which you made sure he knew), which is closest to the sun, which is the smallest, and all kinds of facts.  You’re still clinging to Pluto as a planet, which seems silly to me, but it has provided some good discussion opportunities about the role of change in science.  One thing I admire about scientists is their ability to admit that they’re wrong, and that new evidence isn’t something to hide from, but rather an exciting chance to reevaluate previously held beliefs.

Nobody, myself and you included, likes to admit being wrong, but maybe if we can reframe things as new evidence and evolving thought, we can grow rather than be stagnant.

The weather has been weird lately, almost like a wrong-hemisphere monsoon season.  We’ve had unseasonably warm temperatures, buckets and buckets of rain, and a handful of chilly days.  We spent one of them volunteering with Family Folk Machine at Oktoberfest emptying trash cans.  To the organizers’ credit, there wasn’t much trash.  They did a good job creating a system of reusable rather than disposable drinkware, so really all we had to manage were food containers.  We spent most of the time pushing around a big, rolling trash receptacle, peering into trash cans, and deciding they didn’t need emptying.  Still, it was pretty fun, and we hung around after our volunteer shift to enjoy SodaFest, the kids’ sub-festival with soda tasting, games, and activities.  You tried the climbing wall for the first time and did a good job.

Music continues to be your top extracurricular (only, in fact, since Let Me Run got cancelled due to low participation).  You’ve really taken to the trombone, practicing more than necessary and working out notes you haven’t yet been assigned.  It’s looking like we will probably need to replace the loaner trombone you’ve been using with a permanent one, though we should probably wait a few more months to see if your enthusiasm wanes.  Piano is also going well, and you’ll participate in the fall recital soon.  You’re still active in the choir, and we learned at dinner last night that you’re on cowbell duty for at least one song in Orff Club.

Photo by Gary Clarke

We took a mini-vacation to Dubuque last weekend, and we saw some prime examples of your dynamic nature.  First we visited your cousins, and you had a great time having Nerf blaster battles with them and staging a YouTube video that involved taste-testing various flavors of Ritter Sport chocolate bars.  After that, we went to a hotel with a waterpark.  As your dad and I managed Callum in the toddler area, we marveled at how nice it was that you and Tobin could have so much fun together.  You went down waterslides, climbed around on rope bridges, and scrambled all over the place.  We didn’t have to worry about the two of you at all.  Later, we went to the Mississippi River Museum, which you loved the last time we visited.  There was even a special exhibit about Leonardo DaVinci, who was a personal hero of yours in your youth.  You spent almost the whole time pouting and grumbling and being rude to the rest of your family.  What’s the deal, dude?  I don’t know if you were just worn out from the earlier activities, but it wasn’t cool.

The longer I know you, the better I’m getting at not taking your moods personally.  It’s hard for me, because I’m very mood-absorbent, and other people’s negativity brings me down.  If a coworker or friend acted like you were acting, it would ruin my whole day.  I can’t say that your moods have no effect on me, but I’m improving at shrugging them off and waiting for them to pass.  When you were a baby, I remember writing in one of your memos that you were very forgivable.  After a rough night (of which you had many) or high-crying day (also common), you’d give me a big smile and I’d immediately get over it.  Maybe that’s just what loving one’s baby/child/pre-teen/teen/adult means.  It still works.  When I hear you put on your sing-song voice and say, “Which is the smallest planet, Callum?” I’m so happy that I don’t even bother to argue the Pluto point.

You’re in a time of great growth and development, and I know it’s harder on you than it is on me.  I remember being your age and not feeling sure how to respond to the world or how to suss out my role in it.  My challenge is to help you understand that your actions have consequences, and not everyone is going to forgive your poorer choices as readily as I do.  That’s hard to do when we’re surrounded by examples of crappy people ending up in positions of power.  You are so smart, with such capacity for kindness.  I love you forever and will help you find your way.

Love,

Mom