“I think you have the most productive form of A.D.D.,” he says, giving me his cutest look – the one that worked when he was a child, and still does. I feign a pout as he and his friend laugh.
“I love you, too,” I say, standing on my tip-toes as he bends down. I kiss his cheek, still smooth as a baby’s bottom.
“Don’t forget about the sandwiches on the table,” I add.
“That’s four times,” he says. And the two boys chuckle again.
I had just run through the list of chores for him to do. Apparently I’d done so several times, along with mentioning the sandwiches. As for the tasks yet to be addressed, I was p-a-i-n-f-u-l-l-y specific. My kid stares at me, then rolls his eyes.
“What? What’s the problem?” I say, impatiently.
“Could I get the non-eight-year old version?”
Ever notice how many behaviors there are to tweak as kids mature?
“Fine,” I say.
I proceed to repeat my exact words, at twice the speed, and peppered with enough expletives to cause a sailor to put out to sea. He and his friend double over in laughter. Presumably I’ve obliterated the brief memory of the PG version. And the bonus? Suddenly, my otherwise irritating list is more manageable, and more age-appropriate.
I know my son isn’t eight, or twelve, or even fifteen. He’s the kid whose developmental changes seem to happen over night, and always have. A few weeks ago, in addition to tending to his routine responsibilities and then some – he slept what seemed like hours more than usual. Giving him the once over a few days later, it was clear he had grown. I marched him over to the wall where we’ve charted growth for years with those imperfect little pencil marks. Scratching into the worn white paint, I announced to my “little one” that he had just passed his brother.
As for moi, dutifully putting the flourishing touches on (what I hope is) the last of financial forms for college apps, I am convinced I’ll be shorter when everything my son needs in the next months is completed.
Despite a glitch over the weekend from which he bounced back pretty quickly, the kid is in a fairly pleasant mood after being in a foul state for some time. Of course, I doubt it will last and I can’t say I blame him; his application and portfolio burden was unrelenting, and his stress has eased only slightly as midterms hit (today), along with tennis practice and matches daily, and more exams to come.
Add the waiting game to hear from schools (another month to pace and fret), all manner of papers and projects, and what remains of senior year is a mixed bag. But one thing I know for certain. I need to take more distance, allowing my son the space to continue growing into his sense of self. His autonomy.
Last weekend, he ended up going out – the worrisome wandering from one gathering to another, eventually returning here with a friend in tow for the night. I had resolved to do better and I have – not requiring a homing device on his ankle or a text message to know his whereabouts. He had a key. He was with kids I know. I left him alone.
As for repeating myself?
I’m bound to continue, though he is trying to break me of the habit – generally with humor. So I’m determined to remind myself (twice if necessary) that he’s growing up. That this is a natural progression. That I will have given him the most vital life skills he needs, whether I realize it or not.
He will be ready. He will be fine.
And I say again, to myself: He will be ready. He will be fine.
© D A Wolf
Oh God yes, I do this too. All the time. Can’t help myself. Some of it is wanting to micro-manage their lives forever. Some of it is just plain old neurosis. I’m glad that your boys deal with it with a lot of humor. My husband finds it less amusing…I think the kids just tune it out. Sometimes I wonder who the reminders are really for!??!
Delia Lloyd
http://www.realdelia.com
And so much of it is the habit of years. Of their lifetimes. (I did this much less with my elder; he was such a different kid!)
Now that I think of it (and think of it ;)) – you may be right. Those reminders might be for us!
I realize this wasn’t your larger point, but while reading your post I couldn’t help but be reminded of the video clip of Kate Gosselin last year when she was trying to get the papparazzi to leave her and her kids alone. She warned them once to get back and then, when they persisted, said to the collection of aggressive, grown men, “What did Mommy say?!” Sometimes the language we adopt as the parents of young kids becomes very ingrained.
Glad to hear that your son is getting a bit of a break from the stresses of college applications and so on. It sounds like your willingness to poke fun at yourself further lightened the mood. Just a few more months and all of this that hangs in the balance will be resolved. And what a great day that will be!
It’s hard to let go, but he will be ready, he will be fine. Soon he’ll take on all of his responsibilities and lessen your load. And then you can find that time just for you and discover the pleasure of it!
He is ready. He is fine. You are writing. You are parenting. You are connecting. You are letting go. You are fine. You are.
They do make it hard sometimes, though! My oldest is only 13, but still, you’d think that she would say something if the dishes left out to dry were in her way when she was making dinner. (I’d forgotten all about them.) No, she just tried to work around them, but in the end, some of those drying dishes had to be re-washed. Really? You couldn’t bother to either move them or say something? And what do I get in return: “you didn’t tell me.” So we’re still struggling with figuring out what needs to be said and what doesn’t.
Oh, April… I know that tune… (Is it selective hearing on their parts?)
I laugh because when they are 2 we remind them to tell us when they need to pee; then when they tell us at age 5, we tell them they don’t have to tell us that anymore! I told my teenage girls to call or text if their plans changes while they were out; and now, if they know I’m traveling, they expect me to call or text if my schedule changes! Everything comes full circle. Yes, he’ll be fine. But that doesn’t relieve you of the praying! 🙂
You’re telling me that there is an age where you don’t have to repeat a request 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, n times and it actually gets done. Oh I am so down with that.
Somewhere around 17, I think, Cathy. At least, you don’t have to repeat the request every time. Maybe every other time? Though I did find the car keys to be a wonderful bargaining chip with my older son…
You’re reminding him and he’s reminding you and you’re reminding yourself and I’m nodding along with all of it.
And even though my oldest is 10 years younger than your youngest, I feel that in some ways we’re growing in the same ways.
Xo
10 years younger! Yikes, Sarah! I won’t say it goes by in the blink of an eye (it doesn’t), but one of the nice things is you can still look at a teen and see the little boy face. (We just can’t tell them that!)
I especially enjoyed the idea of the non-eight-year-old spiel. It’s a delight to know there’s humor lifting both of your spirits — but I’m smiling particularly about its irreverence 🙂
I look forward to the adultish child who doesn’t need someone following along behind him (or leaving him notes everywhere) so he doesn’t forget … well, everything!