Björn's first date
On Tuesday night, Björn and Chrissy went to the movies together. Just the two of them. In spite of the ribald remarks from some of my colleagues, I knew I could trust the pair of them to be sensible. Had it been any other girl, I might have been less comfortable about allowing my son of only-just-fourteen to go out on a date without a group of friends in attendance to act as a buffer.
Much to Torvald's amusement (and Björn's puzzlement), my heart was very full after dropping Björn off at the cinema. I had to drive Chrissy home afterward - she lives several miles outside of town - and when Björn walked her to the front door, it really hit home that we had passed another milestone and that my son was becoming a man in whose life my role is steadily diminishing. I find that, while I am proud of the emerging man and reluctant to jeopardise his development, I am nevertheless grieving for the loss of what was.
Mothers of sons know that the growing apart is of necessity a one-way process. Daughters pull away as teenagers and then boomerang back when they're all done being rebellious and contrary. Not so with sons. The distance just keeps widening.
How can I explain this? I still get to kiss him goodbye every morning and goodnight every night. I still pray with him at bedtime. I still sit opposite him at the dinner table every evening and grumble about the state of his room (almost) every day. I still iron his clothes (he does the laundry himself) and harangue him to put his clean washing away. I still remind him to do his homework (I even help occasionally) and practise on his guitar. I still impose limits on the amount of time he spends on the computer/playstation/telly. He still spends the same number of hours a day under my roof and in my direct and indirect care.
Yet I miss him. I miss the little boy he used to be. I love this young man - don't get me wrong - but I miss being needed. I know, I know - it's all me me me, but it doesn't hurt any the less for it. I'll get over it, but right now, I'm having a little wallow. So there.
Much to Torvald's amusement (and Björn's puzzlement), my heart was very full after dropping Björn off at the cinema. I had to drive Chrissy home afterward - she lives several miles outside of town - and when Björn walked her to the front door, it really hit home that we had passed another milestone and that my son was becoming a man in whose life my role is steadily diminishing. I find that, while I am proud of the emerging man and reluctant to jeopardise his development, I am nevertheless grieving for the loss of what was.
Mothers of sons know that the growing apart is of necessity a one-way process. Daughters pull away as teenagers and then boomerang back when they're all done being rebellious and contrary. Not so with sons. The distance just keeps widening.
How can I explain this? I still get to kiss him goodbye every morning and goodnight every night. I still pray with him at bedtime. I still sit opposite him at the dinner table every evening and grumble about the state of his room (almost) every day. I still iron his clothes (he does the laundry himself) and harangue him to put his clean washing away. I still remind him to do his homework (I even help occasionally) and practise on his guitar. I still impose limits on the amount of time he spends on the computer/playstation/telly. He still spends the same number of hours a day under my roof and in my direct and indirect care.
Yet I miss him. I miss the little boy he used to be. I love this young man - don't get me wrong - but I miss being needed. I know, I know - it's all me me me, but it doesn't hurt any the less for it. I'll get over it, but right now, I'm having a little wallow. So there.
posted by karynr at 11:40 pm
0 comments
