My Son, My Love, My Whiplash

Say you have an almost-15 year old son. A very cute one who makes you look forward to watching his sports, who you're very proud of for working way above grade level in school, who you know is downright handsome, & who has a decent personality to go along with it all. He's got a lot going for him & you're pretty darn proud of that kid. 

Then say, as a little guy, you were his world. He adored you, he wanted to help you with everything, he ran to open doors for you, he loved to lay with you & read Harry Potter or Guiness World Records books, he came to you to talk about whatever was on his mind. He was your little guy & you were his Mama.

Then one day in first grade, this cute little boy says, "Don't hold my hand up to the school or hug me in front of anyone today, Mommy. I don't want everybody to think I'm a Mama's Boy." You go along with it & you 2 come up with a little fist bump code to replace the hug. 

Then one day in third grade, that adorable boy tells you he can't say "I love you" in front of other people. It's "wussy". You go along with it & the fist bump replaces both the hug & "I love you" exchanges. 

Then one day in sixth grade, he stops hugging you good night because it's uncomfortable for him. You go along with it because he still says "I love you" when no one else is around & the last thing you want is for him to be uncomfortable because of you.

Then one day in eighth grade, this cute not-so-little boy starts walking ahead of you, sitting away from you, & basically not acknowledging you in public. You go along with it because hey, at least he still hunts you down when he wants a piece of the candy stash you have in your room & he still says "I love you" every night & every time he leaves the house. And for the most part you know he likes you, he just doesn't want others to know it.

Then one day this freshman boy starts getting an adorable little grin every time a certain girl's name is mentioned. You have no problems with this. You think it's cute. You think it's sweet. You think it's downright adorable, though you would never use that word to his face. You also think he shouldn't be so grown up. It causes an odd tear in your heart that is both "aw, look at him growin' up" (smiley face) & "aw, look at him growin' up" (not-so-smiley face). If you say the first one as if you just saw a cute little kitten & the second while looking down & kicking at the ground, you hear the differences in the way your heart says it.

Somehow, while working on genetic variability, you end up becoming a creeper, stalking your own son on The Facebook. You're not quite sure how it happened, really you don't. You sit looking at the picture of your son in his muddy football jersey, his arm around his now-girlfriend, & that same grin on his face. You sit there looking at that handsome man face, wondering where your 4 year old little buddy went...when the round little hands became man hands...and why they're on a girl's waist when he's supposed to still believe girls have cooties & he'll become infected with flesh-eating bugs if he touches them (what, all Moms don't tell their sons this?)

Here's my public service announcement for the week: If you don't want to be scared so bad that you jump 10 feet out of your chair & get whiplash from spinning around so fast, don't get caught looking lovingly at your son on your laptop screen. Or at least don't sit with your back to the door so that someone can walk up behind you. There ya have it. You're welcome.

Hubby laughing at you...while you clutch your chest, then grab your neck, then punch him for scaring you because it resulted in you hurting yourself (which technically, you wouldn't have hurt yourself if he hadn't caused you to spin around so fast, so he actually is the one that hurt you)...is not a pleasant sound.  

After laughing, hubby tried soothing my Mama heart. When I said, "Look at that grin!" he said, "Yup...it's the grin of a boy who loves...football." 

A for effort, hubby. 

I wish I was that gullible...naive...desperate...whatever it would take to believe that.

That's a grin of a boy who is no longer 4 year old, running to his Mama with his arms up, happy to see her. 

It's true, there is something very, very different about your son than your daughter. It's not a better love or a deeper bond; it's just different. I'm not sure why it's different, it just is. 

You can see it in the way I say "no" to Boy Teenager. I can say no, I can even mean no...but when he looks at me with those big brown eyes & that one raised eyebrow...I melt. I have to look away or I hand him the Kit Kat anyway. That's not to say he's a spoiled little turd. He's quite the respectful, responsible guy & I'm proud of him for that. He just knows that 1 of the big joys in my life is seeing him happy. And fed. I'm not sure what it is about Mothers feeding their sons, but I love to feed him & I love to see him enjoy the food I make. 

Tonight Boy Teenager asked for some sherbet. I said no & walked away. 5 minutes later he came to me & asked, "So that was a no on the sherbet?" I told him, "Nah, go ahead." Hubby laughed & said that the strength I display when it comes to Boy Teenager is just amazing. 

What can I say? My love for my son is so huge that it gave me whiplash today.