losing my boy
Monday, September 13 
Oldest Son and me on the beach in Yachats, OR, 1995. If I could occasionally travel back in time and get one of these hugs from him, I think I could survive this new stage.
I don’t know why, but it seems the older I get, the easier I cry. The other day a song from my high school days by The Cure came on the car radio. It’s called Friday, I’m in Love. Maybe you remember it? Someone has done a remix of it, so now it’s on the radio a lot again, claimed once again by teens as part of their personal soundtrack.
Anyway, the tears were for Oldest Son. He and I have always been close, always able to talk. We could even talk when times were dark, when in fifth grade, heart tattered and his world made foreign by divorce, he began a conversation with me saying, “I hate you.” Or when I started seeing Shawn a year after breaking up with an admittedly poor choice for a boyfriend and Oldest Son found himself hitting it off with Shawn. His need for self-preservation helped him find the words to say, “Mom, I’m going to do this one more time with you. But if things don’t work out with you and Shawn, I’m done, okay?”
In sixth grade he had the skills to tell me, in essence, that he was going to give his heart to this guy Shawn, but if things didn’t work out, he just couldn’t go through it again. I took a deep breath and gave him a hug. Honestly, I would do just about anything not to fail him again.
Anyway, fast-forward to eleventh grade, nearly 17, and Oldest Son is changing at a rate rivaled only by the first two years of his life, which is to say, he’s changing before our eyes. He left for three weeks in July to go to his dad’s family cabin in Minnesota, and he came home an inch taller and a shoe size bigger. He’s now taller than Shawn (although about 30 lbs. lighter) and his voice has dropped.
Yikes.
I had honestly thought Oldest Son had skipped the hormonally-induced moods my friends with teenagers complained about. We were so excited to see him when he got home after his Minnesota trip. But then we hardly saw him between work and his desire to hang out with friends.
Then he got into an argument with Shawn and stormed off, knocking heads in a way that was so unlike him. I could see Shawn was hurt. “I just miss him,” Shawn whispered to me, his voice catching.
Then later Oldest Son offered Shawn a sincere apology, unrequested. Perhaps aliens haven’t abducted him and replaced him with a twin after all.
He closes his door now, which he never used to do. He lays on the tramp, napping instead of jumping. He gets annoyed when I call too much to check in with him when he’s out on an all-day friend-bender.
I know it’s normal. But I miss him too.
Then the other day, a girl came to pick him up for school. A pretty girl with long, wavy brown hair and a fancy car.
“Does she like you?” I asked Oldest Son.
“I dunno, I think she used to,” he said.
Next day when she pulled into the driveway I said, “Is she picking you up because she lives near us?”
“No, I don’t think so,” he replied, running out the door with his backpack.
Later that day I was running errands on my lunch hour when The Cure came on while I was thinking about Oldest Son and this girl. And I remembered. I remembered what it was like to be that age and feel so alive around the opposite sex, to want your parents to butt the hell out of your business, how belonging to a group of friends outside your family can seem the most important thing in the world.
I know his pulling away is normal, but it’s weird to know that this time in his life is so wonderful and sometimes awful and that I can’t script it all for him or even be privy to it anymore. I can’t sit this girl down and say, “Look, I don’t know you. But you better be good to my boy.”
Today I made Oldest Son the homemade brownies he’s been craving. It’s all I can think to do. Make brownies to show him I still love him, while backing off and trying to trust that it’s all just life, and it’s exactly as it should be.
Reader Comments (14)
Another great post, in a long series of great posts.
I will never forget one night in the BVI's at dinner when your Oldest was SO protective of his mom on the dance floor. Sweet & poignant when you consider what was going in in your lives at the time. He's a great kid, soon to be a great man.
Send me a brownie.
Your brownies ARE the best. honestly. I don't know what we are going to do when our oldest gets there, I swear I can see glimmers of it on the horizon and he is only ten. Oy. DH says, "how come you are never told that parenting is just a long process of letting go and sometimes grieving?" Of course it is not 'just' that, but a big part of it is. My friends were dropping their twins off at school for the first day of fifth grade( which is the last year of elementary school) and they were having a distinctly emotional time of it . I had to feign busyness so I could pass by and not cry. I think I need to go make brownies now.
Yow, it's too early in the day to cry! My boy is 26 now, and every so often we hit those deep notes we used to in conversation, but those times are farther and farther between. I'm afraid he sees me as the person he knew as a teen, through those warped glasses teens wear when looking at normal adults called parents. And I never really was that goober person he's remembering through the hormone hazed past, but even so, I'm growing up too, dammit, and I wish he wondered about that. Yes, brownies. Lots of them. Lots and lots of them. Half of the dough sucked up before it hits the pan. (Safe to do, thanks to my chickens.) Here's to you, Megan. (Hoisting a brimming spoonful to my trembling lips)
...and yeah, Megan, I know you're making brownies as an act of love and communication, but I'm using them as drug of choice.
Someday he will come back to you and tell you , you did a great job raising him. You could always stalk him on facebook. Brownies seem like the perfect solution.
I'm not quite sure how you speak so clearly to my heart in such a timely manner, but damn-you're good! So beautifully spoken from the heart. Thanks for reminding me I'm not alone.
Ahh, the telling part was that he came back and apologized to shawn, of his own accord, that's the kind of man he's becoming.
in my house it's banana muffins for the teenage trying to figure out his world.
Once again you made me cry! And at work... I guess you know you did a good job when you see your son becoming an independent adult, but how bittersweet. It's a good reminder to me to hold my little (and sometime trying) boys close.
BrotherJohn: Yeah, the emotions during that trip were pretty raw and fresh. Glad you guys were there with me to witness and remember.
Pooknelle: Your DH is so right on that one. Also: brownies are good medicine, I've decided.
NLWD: The way things are going, I'm finally grasping that my boy turning 26 like yours is just a blink away. Don't even like to write that, but there it is. Also, I've figured out a way to make brownies double-naughty. I top them with coffee-mocha frosting from the Pioneer Woman's recipe...
SDA: Ummm, I can't stalk him on FB. He "unfriended" me. Twice. Guess I shouldn't have posted that cute picture of me and him on his wall?
farmergirl: Hey, welcome! So pleased to think a Montana farm girl (what I want to be when I grow up) is reading me :)
Catootes: Yeah, I just sort of exhaled when he apologized and thought to myself, "Everything is going to be alright." Ooh, banana muffins. That sounds like comfort food.
Mel: I remember being overwhelmed so much when my guys were little, but it is helpful to try and remember that someday very soon they won't be at this stage anymore and you'll miss those little cuddly bodies and sweet voices...
Beautifully written. I'm glad I have a few years before my son reaches the teenage years. Would love to meet your sons one day, sounds like you have done a wonderful job with them. BTW, Happy B-day!!!
ummm yea, cute pictures with moms are not cool and not meant for public consumption. lol that is funny tho , maybe sometime you can put that recipe for brownies on your blog? btw how did they work? Oh and i can stalk him I am still his " friend" ? on facebook lol
Wow this one on mommyhood really got me. Just today I read Winnie the Pooh to my 2 year old Henry Lee and he fell asleep in my arms after a "long and hard" play date with the neighbor boy. As I layed him down carefully into his crib I hugged him tight and tryed to place this moment deep in my soul to be rekindled on later dates as needed. I guess that was a good idea based on this post:) Faith
Great post. Here's to us all, doing the best we can. Pass the brownies.
Speaking of hormones, now *I'M* crying. *sigh* Good luck to you, my friend. I'm struggling with letting go on a Jr. High level - I can't imagine the 17 year old level.