Puberty

Your major growth spurt still alludes you. You're upset that your 10 yo friends are giving you hand-me-downs. But just today you noticed your own BO, and you've got two- TWO - zits, the most you've ever had at one time. Your Dad and I have both noticed the darkening of your lip hairs.

Dude. It's on its way. Won't be long now. Soon I won't have to urge you to eat. Your voice will change. You'll trip on everything.

It's all part of growing up. It scares me more than it thrills you, I think. It's a reminder that your time with me is limited. Have I done all I can do? Is it enough? Have I let you down?

I know I've made mistakes. I'm human and I can't help it. My hope is that because you're such a smart, sweet, loving, creative, resourceful fellow, you'll do just fine in spite of me.

I love you so much,
Mom

Pictures

I have a flickr account which you rarely bother to peruse. When you do, you invariably start making a ruckus about the pictures of you that are on there. How dare I! Post! Pictures! Of! You!

From your perspective it's a gross invasion of privacy. The whole internet is looking at pictures of you being a goof. Your delicate teenage image is being destroyed.

From my perspective, this is our family picture album. How am I supposed to leave you out? Love and photograph all my children except for you? Nope. Sorry. And as for the whole internet looking: Nope. Sorry. It's our friends and family - the same people who would see these pictures if they were in our house looking at a paper photo album.

Perhaps this is a mistake I'm making. I don't know. I want to respect your budding sense of self and your privacy, but at the same time I think of these pictures as mine. They are images I make and share with people who care. Right this minute you're embarrassed, but one day you're going to look back on these pictures and be so glad I took them. And even if you don't, your future family will.

If this is a mistake, I apologize. I do it with the best intentions.

Love,
Mom

Almost 13

The other day you said you didn't want to be 13. You wanted to keep on being a child. You can't know how much I want that too. I want you to stay my little Boy. I never want you to be too big for my lap.

But you grow. And it is good. You've already started stretching the wings that are going to take you out of my nest; forgive me if I don't make room as quickly as you'd like.

I hope you know how proud I am of you. I know you've got all the things you need to be happy in life. You're kind, hard working, creative and smart. Mostly I worry that you don't know it as well as I do.

I love you so much- I couldn't love anyone more. You are dear and precious and perfect to me just the way you are. I could spend all day trying to communicate just how dear and precious and perfect and loved you are, but it wouldn't be any good because it just can't be said enough.

I love love love you,
Mom

Well, you asked....

I was cleaning my closet out, which means I ran into a cloud of dust and my head filled up with snot. You came into the bedroom to take advantage of the chance to snuggle in our bed. I blew my nose and said "That's disgusting!"
To which you replied, "What's disgusting?"
So I showed you.
And you screamed. And ran. And said "Oh my God! What was that?!?" about a million times.
And I laughed. And wheezed. And laughed harder. And had to sit down so I wouldn't pee.

I suppose one had to be there to appreciate the humor, but you were, so one day you'll read this and sigh "Those were the good old days..."

Love,
Mom

Someday you will have forgotten this.

You will read this and be reminded, and laugh as hard as your Dad I did...

So your sister came out to the kitchen with something in her mouth. I asked her what was in her mouth, and she spits out a piece of glass! Oh the horrors! We had just had a glass break in the kitchen the day before, but we were sure we'd gotten it all up. Then to see that glass come out of her mouth....
I couldn't imagine how she hadn't cut herself until I looked the glass over. It was oddly smooth- kind of like sea glass, only perfectly clear. Your Dad came out to the kitchen to look at this odd glass, and was holding it up when you came into the kitchen. "Oh!" You say, "That's my rock candy! I'm sure of it!"
Then you cautiously hold it up to your tongue and taste it.
"Yep!" you say, and pop it into your mouth.
This is when your Dad says
"So let me get this straight. You dropped that piece of candy on the floor. Then your sister sucked on it for a while, then you ate it."
Oh the agony! You couldn't get over the horror of it, and we couldn't stop laughing. Still makes me giggle.

Glad no one was hurt,
Your Mom

Growing Boy

The other day you said you were headed to the shower. "I stink of puberty" were your exact words.

Yep, puberty stinks, but you haven't truly figured that out yet. You're tickled because today you got your first real zit- a cute little whitehead on your cheek. I'm sorry that you won't always think they're cute.

The week before last you came out of the bathroom all excited because you were sure you'd grown armpit and pubic hair. Haven't checked your crotch, but there is no real armpit hair, just peach fuzz. I hated to bring out down. You've watched almost all your friends shoot up and sprout hair and heard their voices change- you don't understand why it hasn't been your turn yet. You wanted me to buy regular milk to see if the BGH wouldn't help things.

Lately you've been driving me and Simon CRAZY. You go all sullen and rude. You insist you have to be right about something and won't listen to a word we say. You go deaf at random intervals. You take fourteen million times as long to do a job as any normal, healthy person should.

I love you anyway. Often, after you blow up in some spectacular fashion, you apologise and say you'll never do it again. I always say "Yes you will, but I'll still love you anyways".

It's true,
Mom

Ghosts in the walls

This morning you had me turn off the sink because you heard a noise. We stood there in the kitchen and strained to hear it. It sounded like it was coming from the hall, so I followed you out there, then it was coming from outside the door, so we went through, and standing right next to you I heard it clear as day. The doorbell was screeching and chattering like something out of a sci-fi movie. I felt it and the wall around it and it wasn't hot, but I figured I'd call the landlord anyway. Once I got on the phone with her I went back to the doorbell, but the noise had quit. We chatted a while. When I got off the phone you said you'd never be able to concentrate on your reading with that racket, but you were hearing it in the living room now. I went in there, but now you were hearing it in the kitchen! I'm following you all around the house trying to figure out what wall it's coming from when you call me from your bedroom.

It was your gameboy. In your pocket. Squeaking.

So.

You were kind enough to volunteer to call the landlady and explain what bubble-headed boobs we are. I was so proud of you for doing that. I can't imagine doing that when I was your age. Then you talked about being so embarrassed. I pointed out that I'd made the same mistake that you did, and I'm the grown-up...

Hope you can laugh about this soon- it's funny!
Love,
mom