My Young Man

Sometimes, when I look at Andrew, I can’t believe he’s not a little boy. He’s almost 13, and is turning into a handsome young man.  He is becoming more private and won’t let me into his world as easily.  I know this is all part of the process, but sometimes it’s just hard.  I’m thankful I don’t have to deal with a newborn; I never was very comfortable with that stage.  I just didn’t know what to do with him, and his incessant crying especially at 5:00 pm usually made me nuts.

I also don’t really want to go back to the toddler days, although, I would love to hold him in my arms just one more time.  I especially loved it when he would wake up in the mornings. He’d come into the kitchen where I was usually sitting, reading the newspaper and drinking coffee.  Without saying a word, he’d climb up into my lap and snuggle against my chest.  He wouldn’t say anything, and I would usually speak softly to him as I hugged him and rubbed his back.

These days, he rarely comes into the kitchen when he wakes up.  He usually goes into the living room and immediately turns on the t.v. It’s a habit I wish I hadn’t allowed, but it’s too late now.  It’s what he does.  Instead of him coming to me, I usually go to him, sit on the couch and try to say good morning.  I say try, because sometimes, he is not up for conversation or a mom’s touch.  Even so, I go to him, and let him know I’m glad he’s awake and hope he had a good night’s sleep.

I know my time with him is getting shorter.  More and more sleepovers, time with friends and his own independence fills our life.  If I suggest going to a movie or any type of activity, he always asks if a friend can come.  I’m not enough; and I know it’s not a slight against me, he just enjoys activities more when he has a friend with whom he can laugh and play.

My son is becoming a young man.  It’s changing our relationship, as he’s trying to find his way into adolescence.  So many times when I look at him, I see that cute tow headed toddler. Other times, I can imagine the man he’s going to be. Either way, I usually end up in tears.  Tears for what was and tears for what will be.  Thoughts of did I do enough, or did I create a strong enough bond that will always bring him home to me. Only time will tell, and I just keep praying the answer is yes.  Yes, I did do the best I could.

Right now, all I need to do is go into the living room.  He’s awake.  He just looked at me and gave a half smile.  It’s enough of a hint that he expects me to come in and say hello.  Even if in the process, he’ll act like he’s too grown up to care.