The Daily Call

The teenage years with my son were difficult. I knew they would be. It’s just the way life is. As kids get older, they stretch their wings and push their boundaries. My son was a typical teenager.

Since he was an only child, we raised him to be more independent and self-reliant. Unlike children with siblings, he would never have a brother or sister to lean on. His father and I were aware that life is unpredictable, and in case something happened to us, we wanted him to be able to stand on his own feet. This came with some bumps, as all things do.

Two Years Ago and More

In his late teens, the open and transparent conversations with our son screeched to a halt. Normal. Teens begin to learn they have a right to privacy. As they work out what it’s like to be an adult and adulting, they keep more to themselves and become more thoughtful about their actions. This is when they begin to push back on things they don’t like, don’t want, or don’t believe apply to them. This is the age of rebellion.

When this began, my son and I went head-to-head most of the time. I am a stubborn parent, and he is a stubborn child, so that made for interesting experiences.

He went through phases as well. One of them was his experimentation with drugs.

The Rub

As his mom, I knew firsthand what it was like to try drugs. I knew what to look for, so when he began to behave erratically, I knew. I called him out on it, and that’s when he began lying. I was well aware of how this would go if I didn’t nip it in the bud, so his dad and I did.

We confirmed he was using drugs, punished him for it, and then severely limited his activities. We involved his youth pastor, informed his coaches of what was going on, and placed governors on his phone and internet usage. It was a very rough time for him, especially if you know how kids use their phones as an extension of themselves.

Finally, we placed a tracker on his phone that we could access from our phones to see where he was at all times. This was with the aid of his pastor. He hated us. Rightly so. His wings had been clipped.

I had always told him that, as a parent, I am not here to be his friend. I was his friend, don’t get me wrong, but I told him I was there to parent him. I also said that he would probably end up hating me, but that I understood it’s part of the process and that I would rather he hate me than continue down a wrong path that could lead to his ruination.

We were always this open with him, and we never lied to him about anything. So when all of a sudden his goose was cooked, he and I were at odds. All. The. Time.

Good Cop, Bad Cop

Dad, on the other hand, was the good cop to my bad cop. He has always been very laid-back, which allowed our boy to have one parent he could be freer with, even though my husband and I were on the same page about our parenting goals.

I’d say this tension continued for 2 or 3 years until he moved out at 19. He was preparing to graduate from his school across the country. Two weeks before graduation, companies were allowed to visit his campus. He was recruited by a company in Colorado, offered a great job in his field, and asked to start within a week.

The Offer

He could not start that early. He needed to graduate and then plan a move from our home to another state. We needed at least a month to help him get situated for his adult life away from his parents.

He asked for a month’s time and was granted it, and we got to work. I searched for apartments for him, and he chose from the ones I vetted. I bought him all the furniture and housewares he would need for his first home and helped him pack. His dad took time off to drive his moving van out there, assemble the furniture, and pick up short-term necessities like food.

I remember how scared I was the first time I was away from my parents. We wanted him to focus on his career.

The Call You Never Forget

A week later, after his dad had flown home and he had settled into living alone, I got a call. The Call.

“Mom,” he said.

“I need to tell you something.”

“OK,” I said, expecting something like “I want to come home,” but no; that wasn’t it.

“Mom, I just realized, now that I am on my own,  what you and Dad did for me.”

“I realized how much you sacrificed for me and how Dad let you do things for me that I didn’t know or understand then.”

“I need to thank you.”

“I want to thank you because I now see that it was for my good; that you wanted me to be happy and successful.”

“I see now why you did things the way you did, and I am grateful because I have my dream career, a beautiful place to live, and I feel confident I can do this.”

Tears were running down my face. I never thought I would get that kind of call; that he would get it, or come to that conclusion that fast. That is not all. Everything flipped over.

The Best Future Years

From that point on, our son calls me every day; at least 2 times, and sometimes several times a day.

He calls for no reason, for recipes, to let me know how his day went, or to ask for advice. We went from barely talking when he was at home to daily conversations about everything. He calls me when he’s driving, for Pete's sake, just to tell me he’s going here or there. He knows he doesn’t have to. But he calls because he understands that we gave him our best so he could be where he is now.

This is our daily routine, and I can’t live without it. He misses me and his dad, and it shows. These daily conversations mean everything. We are closer than ever.

It’s a simple thing, a call. But it’s more than that. It’s deeper than a call out of obligation to tell us he’s alive. It’s a moment that captures the essence of parenting a humble child into adulthood. It’s slivers of time with a man who is grateful for everything he was given and for the support he has from two people who love him, no matter what.

The call: this call is everything.

(Published in Spilled Ink on Substack, July 2026)

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