When exactly will he grow up and am I really ready for it?

Tonight I sit marveling at the sleeping man-child that I gave birth to almost 12 years ago. This is the baby that my grandmother took one look at and said, "He's been here before." She was right. He has a wise old soul. The exact combination of innocence and knowledge that makes you pull your hair out one moment and stare in awe the next. In sleep he seems so innocent. It is then that I can see the man inside the child.

This boy has a heart as big as the sky, with a gift of compassion as warm as the sun. He can also be incredibly self-centered and obnoxiously rude. Sometimes he manages to be the best and worst in the span of a nanosecond. He thinks he's all grown up, but I'm still wondering when he's really gonna grow up. This child that cannot sleep if I have not walked him to bed and uttered the nightly exchange we have shared since he could repeat after me. This same boy looks forward to Saturday mornings so he can have snuggle time while we watch cartoons. And this young man doesn't want his friends to see me kiss him goodbye when I drop him at school. There are times when he seems more like a 5-year-old than an 11-year-old. When we watch westerns and he has to have his toy gun 'just in case', when he throws a tantrum, and when he asks the same question 20 times or whines for five minutes straight (actually the whining is more 2-year-old). But then, we're walking through the store and he slips his hand into mine, or stops what he's doing just to tell me he loves me, or he tells me that 24/7 just isn't enough time to spend with me. I know the time is coming soon when he will want to spend less time with me. I also know that, for a time at least, he will be emotionally withdrawn from me.

Still, I find myself asking 'when is this child going to grow up?' At those times I try to stop, breathe, and remind myself that he'll grow up when he's ready. And no, I'm not ready for it, so I will wait, mostly patiently. Because the reality is I love the moments I share with my child. I wouldn't trade a single snuggle, held hand, or I love you for one grown up second.

One of my favorite Trace Adkins songs, "You're Gonna Miss This" is about letting go of things too fast. I will miss this, but I will also remember this and treasure the little blessings this man-child gifts me with. I am lucky to be his mom.

Navigating Texas

I’ve never been navigationally challenged. As long as I had gas and a steering wheel, I could find my way anywhere and sometimes I even found places that weren’t on the map! Unlike my beloved Gram, who could be turned around, and I quote, “ass backward” in a mall, I was fortunate not suffer that indignity. I’d bet anything that part of it was my Dad’s doing – there were many family trips where directions consisted of ‘go my way’ or ‘turn your way’ ‘not that left, the other left’ and ‘no not that way’ quickly followed by ‘that’s not what the map said’. Even the Auto Club’s TripTik wasn’t foolproof (and still isn’t, but that’s another blog). I’m sure that somehow he made it important for me to know how to read a map, locate N/S/E/W while driving, and know my left and right. If not, I’ll give him the credit anyway.

While it’s true that back home there were landmarks to guide me, I rarely relied on them except to judge distance and air quality. (Can you actually see downtown LA, Century City or the Hollywood sign?)

Here in TX, navigational direction takes on a new meaning. Direction is hard to determine as most roads run in circles or at least very zigzag. You can’t even use just a freeway number to give general direction since the major N/S freeway also bears an E/W designation. (If you want to go to Dallas you take 35E South, for Fort Worth you take 35W South.) Moreover, don’t get me started on the names of freeways or the road numbers assigned. Out here, you have to know the exit number since most businesses run along the frontage road, which bears the same name as the freeway. I long for the days of the 710, 5, 57, 210, 605, 405, and 91 freeways.

But, I digress. I KNOW that the sun rises in the East and sets in the West. Not even Texans have the power to change that and I KNOW that Denton is north of both Dallas and Fort Worth. Holding these pieces of knowledge close, while trying to drive around and get acclimated, has helped greatly. After all, there are no mountains to orient me to the North! I was delighted to discover that the front of our house faces west, resulting in beautiful sunsets being viewed from our front yard. Things had been going along just fine and I’d managed to keep from getting lost as well as be able to give Scott directions from time to time to keep him from getting lost.

Then we headed to swim lessons last week and all was lost. It was a very warm day and I still hadn’t adjusted to the time change so I was startled to find myself walking into the sunset after leaving the pool with JM. This wouldn’t seem like a big deal except that I drove East, AWAY from our house and the pool also faces east (or so they said). I was confused. I was trying to figure out how the roads that took me East suddenly had me facing West. I kept reviewing the route in my mind, picturing the roads and the turns. Not once did I drive in a loop or circle.

My confusion grew as I drove home. Scotty kept trying to explain, but his explanation made no sense to me. I had driven EAST, away from my house. And yes, I understood that West for me was West for a lot of other people, some over water, others not. However, it still didn’t make sense – I would have had to drive in a circle in order to be facing West again. Scotty and I kept discussing this among ourselves in the front seat. JM was happily watching cows in the back seat.

Finally, when we made a right turn and the sun was once again off to my right, I said to Scott “I just don’t get it; I need the map when we get home. I’m confused and I don’t like it.” Just as Scott was going to explain one more time, a tiny voice from the back speaks up. JM, my darling boy who, for the moment, thinks I’m really smart and brave, says….

“It’s okay Mom. Just wait a couple of hours. The sun will go down and you won’t be confused anymore.”

That’s my boy! I laughed all the way home – and still do every time I think about it.