When you have a child, you are full of excitement and joy. You can’t wait for the next step. I remember wanting the Little Man to sit up so bad. I would sit him in the corner of the couch so he could get practice. I would sit him on the floor surrounded by pillows, hoping he would give me just 5 seconds of unassisted sitting up action. Then one day he did. It was just for a moment, but at the time it was the moment of the week. After that small step, I would wait for him to crawl. I would lay toys just out of his reach, hoping he would scoot to them. I was always eager for the next milestone.
Now I am raising a preteen. He turns 12 next week. My baby, my joy...is no longer a child that needs my every moment. He is independent. He is extremely bright. He is outgoing and he is beautiful. I watch him and sometimes wonder how he is made up of me. When I look at him, I don’t see me. His eyes are wider then mine. His face structure is simple, but defined. His eyelashes are long, thick and beautiful. His smile brightens the room. He is also open. He doesn’t hide his feelings. You can easily read him. When he is happy is face is bright. When he is upset, you can see it when he tangles his eyebrows, and presses his lips together tightly. He is an open book. He talks to anyone about anything. He struggles with relationships. He wants to be loved by everyone. His status in his social world means more to him than anything else. He wants to be popular, and he wants to be chosen over other students.
Raising him isn’t easy. I know no one said raising a child was easy. I have, though, heard that it gets easier as they get older. I would like to meet the person that started this nasty rumor. It doesn’t get easier. I am not just dealing with raging hormones, I am dealing with a raging mouth. When they turn eleven does everything he ever learned fall out of his brain?
I almost feel as though I am raising a stranger. He is growing up so fast. He is developing his own sense of humor. He is funny, but mostly to himself. He is disrespectful at times, like any child. He is also mean at times. Mean to me, mean to his dad, and mean to others. It is so hard for me to see my Little Man be mean. I remember when he was the most precious little thing. He would reach his little arms out for me to hold him. Now those same arms cross over his chest in a very closed off manner. Luckily, I have a child that can’t hide his feelings...at least he can’t yet. I love that he feels he can communicate with me. He tells me what he and his girlfriend talk about. He tells me what the kids at school say and do. He tells me he loves me. Now when he says it though, it is different. It is almost like a mumble under his breath...mechanical. It is a chore. He says it because he always says it. I don’t feel like he means it anymore. I know my child loves me, but it is like I have lost my Little Man. He is growing up. He is practically a teenager. It is no longer important for him to climb in my lap. He doesn’t want to hug me. He doesn’t want to hold my hand when we are crossing the street. He wants to hang out with his friends. He wants to socialize. He wants to be a normal teenager. Unfortunate for his mom. My Little Man, is no longer little. He is becoming a man.
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