My son

I was thrilled when I found out....at the age of 41, that I was pregnant.  I knew pretty early on that it was a boy, as the pregnancy was drastically different from my previous two pregnancies.  Alex has always been a handful.  Emotional and high strung, he has never been easy to raise.  But I look back on some of the sweet memories I have of him....his first word, his obsession as a young toddler with anything that was round or that went in a circular motion.  I remember how we would always look for the "moonah"  I remember his incredible vocabulary at an early age.  I remember how he would be the first one out of bed and come and jump on my bed and in the sweetest way say " Mornin' Mom".  I remember the hugs and cuddles and the songs he loved and the funny things he did.

I look at this young man before me...and I wonder... where oh where did my sweet little boy go?  Gone are those days...and what has arrived in their place is foreign and somewhat disturbing.  There is a young man who has grown taller than all of us girls....that is a techno freak,  loves to ride his bike and is very mechanical.  He can be on the computer, playing video games or doing video stuff...for days without showering, changing his clothes or seeing the light of day.  He hates to get up in the morning and is a sure remedy forstarting your day with an optimistic attitude...because there is always a struggle to get him out of bed and out the door, and you somehow feel like you've done battle before the day is even started.  Before me stands a young man who seems to love to argue.  He will debate any point, any statement just for what seems to be the sheer sport of it.  He has a sense of humor that is quick, and he knows how to use it.  Add to that his penchant and talent for making it up as he goes...or as some would say...slinging the BS...and you have my teenage son.  I see glimpses of the boy I used to know...but then the testosterone takes over and he turns into an alien again.

I wonder each morning as I struggle to get him out the door...how and what to do to shape him in to an actual, social, responsible, compassionate, considerate human being.  The answer is always different...and I am always going back to the drawing board.

And there are times, where he comes and gives me a hug, or we share a laugh or a proud moment...that I see him....the light in him...and I know that together we can accomplish the task together.  Then he hugs me good night...and a monster awakens in his bed the next morning.

They tell me it will get better.  They say that he will turn human once again.  But I fear that he will then be on the threshold of manhood...and I fear that at that point, though I may possibly...hopefully...be able to sit back and be proud of who he is.....the glimpses of my little boy will be gone for good.

"Of all the animals, the boy is the most unmanageable"

~Plato