Boudicca's Voice

The Metamorphosis- Without Roaches

So much rattling in this head of mine as of late. Scary, it is, I tell you.

Whether to post it or not, is another matter. VW got a huge ear full of it this morning as did my sister last night. We shall see… we shall see. Election Day shall be interesting…

It has been awhile since I have written of my children. Assuredly, they are alive and well. That says much, since I have a 13 year old.

He has been on my mind a lot recently. It is hard for him not to be, as he is going through that metamorphosis that takes one from a boy… to a man. It is happening at what appears to be an exponential speed.

I wonder if I took a camera and let it play for days straight, just focused on him, if we could actually see him growing and changing, like you do in those science shows where you watch the flower open and close before your eyes.

Everyone is starting to notice now. First came the hair cut for school, that showed his face had thinned over the summer… no longer hidden by the shaggy hair. Testosterone is slowly starting to kick in, as is evident by the muscle structure starting in his shoulders.

His voice seems deeper… when he speaks, and we hear him… and actually understand what he says.

I am thinking of naming him after the Dick Tracey villain… Mumbles.

This summer, at the beginning, he was distraught as it had become evident that his Vans no longer fit. He loves his Vans.

Odder still was when I jokingly put them on… and they fit. I now own a pair of Vans and with my jeans, was told I could fit with the skateboarders.

His feet are larger than mine, and he comes up to my lips now in height, sometimes when tired after school or when he’s just awakened, he’ll lean against me, pressing his forehead to my lips. He leans in and I can still get the scent of little boy, but it is now mingled with the scent of young teenager.

I love that he still wants affection. I love that he did that the other day in public, in front of his friends, and nobody said a word. (Although it was probably an accident that it happened...) The years of ‘no PDA from Mom’ have disappeared, but I respect it and other than rubbing his shoulders, I try not to be overt with how much I love my eldest boy… not in front of his friends.

Even though they know.

As my son knows… how much their Moms love them.

A sense of peace is settling in as to who he is… we are far from the finish line, but there is more of a calmness as he charts his course to meet his goals.

We have many long talks… he does not shun me nor my advice. I always shrug and say, “The choice is yours… I’m just telling you what I see from my mistakes and my experience…”

He more often than not will take my advice… and then talk to me about it.

Lessons hard learned in middle school, he is realizing what the adult world is about. He is learning to try to play well with the big people, as the big people can surely make one’s life miserable. Ten years ago, the ‘big people’ was just me… now there are others... teachers, both good and bad, and friends' parents, and mentors…

He is learning.

Last year… I cut a deal with him, one that many viewed oddly, and in which I did not blog.

He has bitten his nails since he was two years old. I kid you not, it has been that long. He has the nicest hands and as he approached these big changes in his life, with girls on the horizon, and manly handshakes coming his way, I wanted to see if we couldn’t find some way to get him to quit this habit.

A habit I had until I was 16… that is much easier to break as a woman with manicures and nail polish.

And so I told him that I would pay him to not bite his nails for one month. It was a chunk of change… a ½ day’s wage of mine at work. And then as a follow up, I told him for 5 months after, if he maintained, I’d pay him a ¼ of that, per month.

If 30 days makes a habit, than surely six months should solidify said new habit.

And he was motivated. HUGELY motivated… and he quit biting his nails and it’s been nearly a year… and his fingers are long, his hands lovely.

His hands outgrew mine… sometime in the last few months. I have large hands for a woman my size, long fingers.

His hands dwarf mine now.

When did that happen?

And people are noticing. Family will say to me, “Wow, did you see Ringo’s hands, how much they’ve grown?”

Like a puppy, he will grow into his paws.

And last week… a little girl in his class told him how much she loved his hands.

And when he told me that, with a grin on his face, as he slid into my car, I smiled at him, feeling myself choke up and said with a light laugh, “I told you so…”

I love my boy.

And that’s his update…

My New Vans... Courtesy of my 13 year old.
(Holy crap, you can even tell by how I stand, that I must pronate when I run. How did I never notice that before?)

Posted by Boudicca at October 6, 2008 08:24 PM | TrackBack