Go Anyway

There are few sounds quite as enthusiastic as a teenager being told he’s going to a craft class with his mother.

“Mommmmm. I’m tired.”

We were already having a busy day. School pickup, visiting my parents, a quick grocery run, and now I was reminding my son that I’d registered us for a witch lantern class at the library.

“Mom, it’s going to be in the kiddie section. I’m too old for that.”

I explained that the class was for ages twelve and up.

“Ohhhhkkaayyyyy.”

If enthusiasm were electricity, we could have powered approximately one very small night-light. Maybe.

I told him we’d go take a look. If it was too childish, we could leave. I wasn’t going to force him to sit through an hour of gluing macaroni to construction paper. Although, for the record, I’ve seen some impressive macaroni art.

Mom Scores One

We arrived early.  And guess what?

The class was NOT in the children’s section.

I resisted the urge to do a victory dance.

Because we were early, the library staff let us use a Cricut machine to make some of the pieces for our project. Now, if you’re unfamiliar with a Cricut, it’s a machine that cuts intricate designs out of paper and other materials. Think of it as a very talented pair of scissors that went to engineering school.

My son was fascinated. Suddenly, the teenager who’d been dragged unwillingly into the world of arts and crafts was leaning over the machine, watching it work and helping with the pieces.

Well, well, well.

Look who’s interested.

I told him I’d find some Cricut classes for him. He liked that idea.

Mom scores two.

Not that I was keeping score.

Obviously.

Enter the Witch Hat

Our project was a miniature witch hat lantern. Black panels with spiderweb designs. Purple decorations. Little spiders. An elaborate purple brim.

Very Halloween.

Very cute.

And, as it turned out, not remotely beneath the dignity of a thirteen-year-old boy.

We settled at our table and started assembling our creations.

Then a woman hurried into the room. “Oh! I’m sorry! I hope I’m not too late!”

She asked if she could sit with us. Of course! Her name was Kim, and she was funny, friendly, and easy to talk to. She complimented my son, and we chatted while we worked. By the end of the class, we’d exchanged phone numbers.

I went to the library expecting to make a witch hat. I came home with a witch hat and a new acquaintance. Not bad for an evening that had started with a teenage groan.

A Little Unexpected Turbulence

Now, was the evening perfect?

Nope.

There was a brief interruption that changed the mood at our table. Some comments were made that I could have happily done without.

For a little while, my son’s cheerful expression disappeared.

I noticed. And I didn’t particularly like it. But here’s something I’ve been thinking about lately.

An unpleasant moment doesn’t automatically get to claim ownership of an entire evening.

I don’t have to pretend it was wonderful. I don’t have to explain it away. And I certainly don’t have to frame the whole experience around it. Because there was still a perfectly good witch hat sitting in front of me, a friendly woman beside us, and a son who had discovered he liked working with a Cricut machine.

The evening wasn’t over. And neither was the fun.

The Plot Twist

When class ended, I figured we’d head home. We’d had a long day, and I’d already accomplished my mission of getting my son to try something new. But then he surprised me.

“Mom, can we walk around the library?”

Wait.

What?

The same child who hadn’t wanted to come? The one who was too old for this?

HE WANTED TO STAY LONGER?

Well, butter my biscuits. We wandered through the library, looking around.

“Wow, Mom! It’s a lot bigger than I thought!”

He was genuinely interested. And then, just when I thought the evening couldn’t get any better, he said:

“Thank you for bringing me.”

Oh.

My.

Heart.

I lit up inside.

I could have attended that class by myself and had a wonderful time. I like crafts. I like learning things. I like making stuff. But watching my son discover something he enjoyed? Seeing him curious and involved? Hearing him thank me for an experience he’d been determined not to like?

That was the best part.

Mom scores approximately a million.

And no, I was definitely not keeping score.

The Things We Almost Miss

I’ve been thinking about how easily we could have skipped that class.

We were tired.

We were busy.

My son wasn’t interested.

It would have been so easy to say, “Forget it. Let’s go home.”

And sometimes that’s exactly what we should do. Sometimes we’re exhausted, and the couch is calling our name. Sometimes the couch is practically screaming. But sometimes we decide we won’t enjoy something before we’ve even tried it.

Too childish.

Too difficult.

Too boring.

Too weird.

I’ll look stupid.

I won’t know anybody.

I’m too old.

I’m too young.

I’m too tired.

And my personal favorite:

That’s just not my thing.

Really?

How do you know?

Have you tried it?

I’m not suggesting we all abandon common sense and start signing up for every activity within a fifty-mile radius.

Good Lord.

I have limits.

But I’ve also been discovering that some of my assumptions about what I’ll enjoy are completely wrong. And that’s actually rather exciting.

Looking for the Good Without Wearing Rose-Colored Glasses

Here’s another thing I’m learning.

Focusing on the positive doesn’t mean pretending the negative didn’t happen. I don’t want to become someone who ignores hurtful behavior or smiles through something that genuinely bothers me.

That’s not positivity.

That’s pretending.

What I do want is to stop giving every unpleasant moment the power to erase everything good around it. There was a moment during our class that I didn’t enjoy.

Fine. I can acknowledge that. But there were also purple spiders, a fascinating new machine, a funny woman named Kim, a teenager discovering that his mother hadn’t completely lost her mind when she registered him for a craft class and a wonderful little thank-you at the end.

Those things happened, too.

They deserve to be remembered.

Go Anyway

So here’s my suggestion. The next time something catches your interest, but you’re not entirely sure you’ll like it, consider giving it a chance.

Take the class.

Try the hobby.

Visit the library.

Learn to use the machine.

Bring your reluctant teenager.

You might love it.

You might hate it.

You might discover you’re spectacularly terrible at it.

That’s okay.

Being terrible at something can make for a fantastic story.

And if you genuinely don’t enjoy it? Leave.

You’re allowed. But at least you’ll know. Because sometimes the best memories happen when we step outside our usual routines and discover something unexpected.

Sometimes you meet a new friend.

Sometimes you find a new interest.

Sometimes you come home with a miniature witch hat covered in purple spiders.

And sometimes the teenager who spent the afternoon complaining that he didn’t want to go looks at you and says:

“Thank you for bringing me.”

And suddenly, that ridiculous little witch hat is worth its weight in gold.

Go anyway. You might actually like it.