Saturday, May 12, 2007

Terrible Teens

I needed to use the bathroom this evening. I thought it might be occupied as the door was shut tight. I knocked. A quiet voice on the other side of the door said,
"This waste removal station is in use. There are similar waste removal stations nearby."
Yes. That would be my thirteen year old son. He is nothing, if not entertaining. He actually confessed that he was in there sitting on the pot, cooking up better responses than "I'm in here" or "Occupied". I'm not sure I know very many people whose minds work like his. I have to confess that mine does at times, but I am nowhere near as brilliantly intelligent as he is.

Now that his big sis is gone...all grown up and married, he is a bit of bright light in my day. True, it is often something like having a flashlight pointed directly in my eyes, but light is light. I don't seem to fit the Mom mold. I feel as though I tolerate my children until they become teens, and then I fall in love with them. It was the same with my eldest Magnum opus, my great work. It seems as though every year that passes, cements our friendship, and makes me just about bust with pride. I will most certainly be a sickening Grandmother.

My youngest son is eleven, and still more baby than adolescent. But he has shades of his father in him, and I can sometimes catch glimpses of the cocky, pain-in-the-neck I will grow to adore. The girls are a whole different story. They are still more baby than, well, just about anything. I am fond of them, but I find it hard to envision them as young adults, even though some of them are balancing on the edge of their teen years. I suppose it will come in time. I remember asking myself, "Who is this stranger?" I asked all through the baby years of my bio children. So really there is nothing new about this feeling. I am aiming for Magna opera.

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