My son…

Sometimes, I want to grab The Boy and shake him, screaming “STOP IT STOP IT STOP IT!” oh, who am I kidding – he’s 13 very 13 at times, and I want to shake him a LOT. Heh. But this time, this time it was different.

You see, last night, I realized something, not for the first time, but far more clearly then before. He’s growing up. He’s maturing at a rapid rate, and I have this beautiful boy caught somewhere between childhood and manhood and I find myself simply not ready to let go of the cute chubby cheeked little boy who once told me I was the most beautiful mom in all the world. Now I’m “crazy” and “embarassing” and sometimes even “evil” or “the wrost mom EVER!” though always, deep down, I know there’s still that little boy inside who’s mine, all mine. It’s just harder to find him. And excruciating knowing that I have no choice but to let him go.

Take last night, for example. This was what I heard as he and his sisters got dressed up to go Trick or Treating.

“Ok, this is how it will work, Girls. I will carry this flashlight, Girl, you will carry that one, it’s bigger, brighter, and doesn’t need batteries so won’t go out at all. Pup, you will stay WITH Girl the entire time. No, you don’t have to hold her hand, but don’t run off without her. Holding her hand while crossing the street is a good idea, though.

MyBestBud and I will walk behind you, with this smaller light, and we will stay close too. If anything happens, or looks like it’s going to, you girls head for the car and mom as she’ll be close by as well. MyBestBud and I will hang back a bit, to make sure we’re between whatever and you. If anyone gets too cold, Mom will have the heater going. We’ll hit Gramma, then the teachers who invited us first, Aunt D, the “good street” in our neighborhood, 2 Woodland streets where we know they got the GOOD candy, then the Elks party.

Everyone got it? Ok – get your bags, and let’s tell mom we’re ready to go.”

I….I am torn between being incredibly proud that he’s turning into such a protective, smart, strong young man, and grabbing him by the shoulders and yelling “STOP IT! I am not READY for you to be a MAN!”

It continued through the night, too, as he took charge, and I simply followed along in the car. He made sure that the girls were with the boys at all times. He didn’t relinquish this responsibility that he’d taken upon himself until we got to the Elks party, which was inside, and filled with people we knew, and even THEN he kept checking in on everyone as they wandered around. He even brought me a corn dog. And then, because the games were for “babies” he and hisbestbud VOLENTEERED to help in the haunted house, because it wasn’t scary enough and they needed some REAL spooksters. They did that for over an hour, people! Over an HOUR!

I love the man he is turning into, but… I can’t help but mourn the loss of that little boy, who’s fingers clutched mine tighter every time we went to another house on the trick or treating trail… just a little bit. Such things that make one’s heart swell with pride, and break at the same time should be outlawed, dammit. Outlawed.