Last Sunday I was sitting in church and I was holding my son's hand. His hand... his little boy grimy fingernails calloused palms and scraped knuckles hand... his hand that is almost the same size as mine. How did this happen? How did my silky haired brown eyed dimple handed toddler become this messy haired big toothed gorilla footed back talking lunk of a kid with a hand the same size as mine? And where was I when it happened?
It has been amazing and wonderful to watch my oldest grow and develop and morph into this young woman on the verge of leaving our nest. I can identify with every part of her growth - girl to girl. I am excited (and scared spitless) as she enters the driving stage and as we fill out college applications and make plans. I have been aware of every change and nuance of her growth. Is that because we are both female?
My son on the other hand, has gone from clueless cute and exasperating toddler to this person who has a crush on his music teacher and makes his own playdates and can fix his own breakfast, lunch, and snacks... and it all happened without my knowledge. I was hit with this realization in part from holding his big strong capable hand, but also in the way in how we've begun to talk to each other. We actually have discussions now. His discipline goes beyond, "Do you need a time out young man?" to "We need to talk about what's going on with you today and how we can work it out..." It's no longer about reading him a bedtime story, but discussing the hidden irony in a comic he didn't understand in the paper or what I thought about a book we are both reading. Yes. A book we are both reading. (I love childrens literature, and books for young adults. And I'm not talking about the Harry Potter craze, but about Caldecott winners and the like.)
The downside is that while I was... mentally unaware... he grew and now I realized that I no longer have to worry about him sharing toys politely or remembering to change his undies (well, maybe still that!) but that I now have to worry about smoking, cursing, cheating. The things I found so easily came into conversation with Chick seem to be difficult to chat about with Buddy. Why? Why was it so easy for me to talk about drug abuse or sex with my daughter, but so awkward with my son? Maybe because beginning these conversations make it so real, so definite that my little boy is gone and this overgrown kid with hair in his eyes has taken his place. Here is where I am... here not with toddlers and babies, but with newly hatching persons that I still need to mold, to shape, to guide - but with a whole new set of directions and no map.
I knew goldfish crackers and juicy juice. I knew cheese and crackers and homemade lemonaide, Barney and Dora and Ernie and Bert, training wheels and nightlights. I don't know dating and private chat rooms and role playing games and boys that begin to have crushes and wear protective devices during sports. I guess I'll learn!
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3 comments:
From a parent who has raised a girl and a boy to adulthood, they really are no different. You talk to them as human beings, not as 'a girl' and not as 'a boy', but as a PERSON, an INDIVIDUAL.
If you are truly confident in your role as a parent, then it can be done. Take a deep breath and just do it.
Wow, D. this post really made me appreciate my own toddlers! What a scary new world tweens and teens must be. I'm sure you'll do fine with your son, just as you have with your daughter.
Your post hits home for me. My 9 yr. old who still makes sure his stuffed animals are all lined up on his bed before he goes to sleep, who still likes me to read him bed time stories, who loves it when I tell him, again, about the day he was born came home from school today and told me, quite seriously, that he thinks he's in love. Oh.My.God. I played it cool and let him tell me all about it. When my husband came home from work, I quickly pulled him aside, hurriedly whispered what my son had told me in confidence and began to cry. The days of my son being a little boy is coming to a close. And I don't like it one bit.
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