Tag: Sons

Dancing with my son

Oh, the joy I receive when I dance with my son! The smile on his face is priceless. It was more than giggles. It was the fact that he could dance! He was polite and wanted to lead the dance like a gentleman. I specifically remember our first little dance. He was four years old. We first attended a mother and son/ father and daughter ball that winter and then that summer attended a cookout. I made him so happy by taking him and dancing with him. Then, every year for 6 years, we attended the same mother and son ball. We also danced at his cotillion.

It doesn’t have to be formal events. It can be cookouts to your kitchen floor. Children remember experiences and this has been our experience!

I ask myself, will he remember the two of us dancing at ages 4, 8 and 10 once he is 25 and 35? I started recording our dances, so he would always have a memory. I encourage all to dance with your sons and daughters.

dancing with my son

Raising a man

Don’t let this title fool you. I don’t mean raising a man that is already grown, a 30, 40 or 50 year old man who should be taking care of his responsibilities. Nor do I mean taking care of a man that is not sick and fully capable of taking care of himself. I am speaking of raising your little Princes. Yes, our sons! Your son is the world’s next man..the world’s next leader. Why not treat them as such?! See, we are not raising kids. We are raising our future!

Don’t let this title fool you.  I don’t mean raising a man that is already grown; a 30, 40 or 50 year old man who should be taking care of his responsibilities.  Nor do I mean taking care of a man that is not sick and fully capable of taking care of himself.  I am speaking of raising your little Princes.  Yes, our sons!  Your son is the world’s next man..the world’s next leader.  Why not treat them as such?!  See, we are not raising kids.  We are raising our future!

I had these little pet names for my son and he recently told me, “no, mom!”  How devastating!  He was growing up.  He no longer wanted to be called, “stinka butt.” Shshsh don’t tell him I told!  I had to come to grips that it is okay to love, protect, hug and even kiss your son, but do we coddle?  Do we let them settle some of their own disputes?  With proper guidance and stepping in only when necessary, it is good to let children make some age appropriate decisions and settle their own disputes.  I always knew this, but it took me a while to let him settle his own disputes.  They were few and far, but the bottom line is I wanted him to be able to solve conflict and get along with others.  A book was recommended to me by a friend.  That book was “How to Raise an Adult” by Julie Lythcott-Haims.  It was a hard reality to realize we might be “over-parenting.”  This is the exact word used by the author.  It hit home.  For that reason alone, it is easy to realize that we are raising raising the world’s next men, adults and leaders. When we remember our sons may be the next CEOs, engineers, entrepreneurs,  bankers, educators, and Presidents we  certainly help them to thrive with their leadership skills. I am certainly not saying it is okay to stop being a parent.  That is never okay.  I am simply saying, we are raising men.  We need our sons and we need our men.

Kelly Johnson

The privilege of having my son participate in cotillion

The privilege of having my son participate was more than learning the Waltz. It was cultivating friendships he would hopefully have for a lifetime. It was meeting new friends that he may end up with in college. He learned skills he could use in school, at business meetings, his wedding and on his job(s) in the future. It was creating a healthy network for him and letting him have fun while doing so. It set the tone for his activities to come. Of course, every mother’s dream is to have her child represent well-that is exactly what he did.

Many have participated in cotillions and many will in the future.  The reason I am so happy is that my son participated in a cotillion with other children that looked like him.  He was not invited to participate in the cotillion with his school friends or in that area, but he did participate in the Jack and Jill Cotillion, which gave children in the metropolitan area an opportunity to learn the Fox Trot, Waltz, and Tango.  He had the opportunity to participate in etiquette classes and socialize with other children who wanted those same opportunities.  One thing I noticed when we were shopping and preparing for the cotillion, others asked, “what is the occasion,” I was quite shocked at the response I received.  While many thought it was a wonderful opportunity, I had to face scrutiny from those I expected to be happy for him.  One person asked why I made him go through that and another questioned which one as if they were shocked he was participating in a cotillion.

Thankfully for us, he loves etiquette classes and cotillion.  I have a son that loves to dance and socialize.  He thrives from social interaction.  When we went to brunch as a cotillion social event, the waitress complimented him to me, saying, “your son is so polite.”  I was so appreciative of the compliment.  I began to notice it myself.  He was passing to the right; his elbows were not on the table and he even waited until we all had our food before he ate his own.  My eleven-year-old child was demonstrating what he learned and was thriving!  My money was not wasted and my heart was glad.

The privilege of having my son participate was more than learning the Waltz.  It was cultivating friendships he would hopefully have for a lifetime.  It was meeting new friends that he may end up with in college.  He learned skills he could use in school, at business meetings, his wedding and on his job(s) in the future.  It was creating a healthy network for him and letting him have fun while doing so.  It set the tone for his activities to come.  Of course, every mother’s dream is to have her child represent well-that is exactly what he did.

I am so appreciative of the Jack and Jill Cotillion and if you ever have an opportunity to allow your child to participate in a cotillion or take etiquette classes, I highly recommend it.

Kelly Johnson

Photo Credit- Hilary Grant Dixon

What is it like to be a mother of a little brown boy?

I am scared he might have to hold his hands up one day even though he is innocent. I am afraid that even though his Papa was a cop (my daddy), he may be harassed while driving. I stay on him about what people might do to him and how he should react. I will end here. Before I go, I want you all to know that being a mother of a young brown boy is more than the nice pictures you see. It is like having an asthma attack and never catching your breath…. because…….”I CAN’T BREATHE.”

What is it like being a mother of a little brown boy? Well, my parents (married and together) raised 5 girls. I didn’t have brothers. I was used to girls… but now, as I grew up, I learned people look at them (brown boys) differently. They assume most come from broken homes, they assume they are unaccustomed and loud. I have to say, “stay with me, stay close, hold mommy’s hand.” I cannot let him walk the neighborhood. Even if his friends (not of his race) at school are loud… or misbehaving, he is questioned first (not at his old school, but yes, at his new school…as much as I liked them…he was). I get to know his teachers, volunteer, join the PTA board. Sure, I like doing that stuff; it is who I am, but…… I also want them to know who we really are. We are not thugs! We come from the middle class – upper-middle-class families and we are accustomed! He is brown, but he does NOT steal nor does he curse nor is he naturally loud. He just wants to be an 11-year-old boy. He isn’t looking at your daughter; he doesn’t think like that at 9, 10 or 11. He is not “fresh.”

I foster his love for chess because it teaches him to THINK BEFORE HE MOVES in all areas of life. I put him in PALS (Police athletic league), so he could like cops and they could like him. He does all the things your children do: camps, vacations, nice experiences EXCEPT I have to watch him like a hawk. When he is 16, he cannot just go to the mall like I did when I was younger, he cannot go to Kings Dominion without a parent; he must be protected. My mother hates my personalized plates. I like them. The cops know I am an educator and a mom. If I have a backlight out (that I won’t see until I am told), they pull me over and say, “where do you teach?” They know kids might be in the truck. I have to think ahead; be in protect mode all the time. I am always trying to protect him while at the same time keeping him exposed. I am scared he might have to hold his hands up one day even though he is innocent. I am afraid that even though his Papa was a cop (my daddy), he may be harassed while driving. I stay on him about what people might do to him and how he should react. I will end here. Before I go, I want you all to know that being a mother of a young brown boy is more than the nice pictures you see. It is like having an asthma attack and never catching your breath…. because…….”I CAN’T BREATHE.”

Kelly Johnson