Psycho Mom

On Tuesday when my boy got braces I felt a little panicked. I spent three hours in a waiting room reading magazines and blogs, wondering if he was okay. Meanwhile, he sat in the dental chair calmly while they put wires and all manner of things in his mouth, without a complaint. And then he stepped out, looking like a teenager. And I almost cried. He just patted my back and smiled for my camera, and acted completely mature.


On the way home I took him to lunch and the bookstore. In his usual, sweet way he was so thankful and humbled that I was buying him lunch and a book. He never ceases to be amazed when I surprise him with even a treat as small as lunch and a book. "Wow, Mom. Thanks!! Really!" I had to go to the bathroom and wipe a few more tears because he is growing up BEFORE MY EYES. And then I said it, the really goofy Mom thing. "You know, next thing we know you'll get arm pit hair. Then you'll be driving, choosing colleges, getting a job and a wife, and then I'll be a Grandmom!" He looked at me half mortified because I brought up arm pit hair and half genuinely concerned for my mental health and calmly said, "Remember Mom. I'm just eleven." I grinned as if I was only kidding and replied with a nudge on his shoulder, "I know! You're only eleven." Seriously, how did I let those words fall out of my mouth?? Goofball.

The good thing, really good thing is, I really like the young man he is becoming. What a blessing. And I like this stage when he can talk about politics in one breath and legos in the next breath. We can enjoy boyhood a little longer. But in the near future his boy days will be over and will be a living, breathing, young man.

Don't get me wrong, I certainly don't want to be psycho Mom who holds him back . Even if I have to cry in the bathroom, I will relish his growing up. I will encourage him to depend more on God and less on me, little by little and with hugs, treats, and lots of talks. Heaven forbid, we hold on too tightly! Growing up is good, it's just hard to let go. I guess for now, I will put the arm pit hair out of my mind (what a funny statement). And I probably shouldn't bring it up in conversation again. Ever. Reminds me of the day I started my period and my Dad came home crying, with flowers for me. I was beyond mortified and gave my Mom the glare of death knowing she let my secret slip...to my DAD! So yes, no more talk of pit hair. My lips are sealed.