Losing My Boy To The Teenage Years

So, on the soon to be eve of my son turning 13 and entering the zone of what is known as the teenage years ... where he enters a boy and is meant to exit at 18 years of age a man ... I’m freaking out here ... totally and utterly ... I adore the 12-year-old that he is ... love the fact that he is still a boy ... love his 12-year-old humour that is shaping to be very funny ... love the fact that he still loves a hug ... not too embarrassed to have his hair ruffled ... and still tells me he loves me everyday ... and let’s be honest ... at 18 he won’t be this boy and I really am quite ridiculously fond of him being this boy ... my boy ... and I’m not quite sure how I feel about him being a man.

Those 5 or 6 years of teendom (hmm not sure a word but I like the sound of it) for a boy I equate to something like entering a long black scary tunnel that a whole load of shit stuff happens that I’m not sure I’m going to love ... and then, at the end, he will literally be spat out all man-shaped ... all youth gone ... and that, quite frankly, terrifies me ... I quite like the boy stage!

I’m not stupid, I’m well aware that the tunnel is very much a euphemism for my fear ... and, hey, at least I admit I’m fearful. My girls are in their prime of teenagerism (there really are not enough words in the Oxford Dictionary that I consider aptly describe the state that is that of being a teenager) at 14 and 16 ... trust me, they really are ... and I’m coping with them just about! I was a teenage girl once and I guess they aren’t throwing anything new at me ... but having a son is a whole new territory ... I didn’t even have a brother ... just cousins, oh and a couple of boyfriends ... and those stories aren’t pleasant enough for me to make my son entering the teen tunnel any easier to contemplate ... and no there won't be any blogs soon about my teenage years ... I was an angel ... though, perhaps I should reflect over my teen years and consider some writing material ... anyway, I'm digressing ... I'll leave that for a totally different blog!

So, to my boy, my darling boy, I guess what I’d like to say is have fun, go enjoy the journey ... lots ... throw yourself into experiences that will make you so much richer as a person, listen to people, learn from people, observe life too ... I’ll be here if you need me. I’m a little scared but super proud of who you are at 12 and hope that at 18 your humour will still make me laugh, you will still tell me you love me and you won't mind the odd hair ruffle, even if you’ll be 6ft and all man-shaped ... and that my 12-year-old boy, who I really am rather ridiculously fond of,  won't be too lost, too unrecognisable  ... just saying.

 

This post was first published at Meet Other Mums

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

helen sandle