12 Years Old

One week from tomorrow, my son will turn 12.  How is it possible that my oldest is 12?  Just knocking on teenager.  Where did the time go? It wasn’t that long ago he was learning to walk, talk, then learning to read, and ride his bike.  Learning to tie his shoe and catching his first fish.  He’s leaving boyhood behind and he’s stepping into manhood.  Oh the awkward teen years.  How I wish I could make this graceful for him, but is anybody’s puberty graceful?  So many changes, both inside and out.  He’s trying so hard to grow up and be independent and I’m trying to put off the inevitable for as long as possible and still try to be as fair to him as I can.  I’ve allowed him a certain amount of freedom and privacy and respect, but in granting that freedom, I have to remind him there are still rules to be followed, and if the rules are broken, the freedom will become less and less until he can prove his trustworthiness again.  Part of growing up is learning responsibilities and consequences for actions.  

We’re having a joint birthday party this weekend, for him and his youngest sister (who will turn 6 a mere 5 days after his birthday) with the whole family.  It’s just going to be cake and ice cream and a few presents, but still it’s a celebration of Bo.  It’s his day and he’s the center of attention.  Being the oldest grandchild/nephew/brother, he doesn’t always get to be the center of attention.  There are always younger ones around demanding time and attention with Moms, Dads, grandma and grandpa.  He, of course, forgets there was a good 3 years when he was the sole grandchild/nephew, and he had everyone’s undivided attention.  He got what none of the others got.

He’s such a good big brother, and a wonderful older cousin.  His cousins, Stealth and Duck, absolutely worship the ground he walks on.  He has amazing patience with them and amazing love for them.  He tries to be tough, and cool and hip, but underneath it all, when he’s safe with family, we all know he’s caring and sensitive.  

He’s my son, and he’s growing up.  That means he soon will start growing away, but I won’t love him any less, maybe even a little more, if that’s possible.  His father wants him to play sports in high school and maybe professionally.  My sister swears he’ll be a hair dresser.  I just want him to be happy, whatever he decides that involves and looks like.  

Happy Birthday Bo.  I love you, up to the stars, the moon, and the sun and back. Forever and always.

Mom.