Today, my boychild who politely and indirectly asked me not to name or tag him in any social media-type arena, has reached the coveted milestone of officially turning 16. High school is well underway, college is an attainable and not so far away target, specialized sports and skills have risen and claimed a place in his heart, and of course, driving is now within reach. My first born, is indeed, 16.
Some days that means, “My little baby is 16,” as in, “Where has the time gone?” While other days, it’s more like, “My eldest is 16,” and, “Thank, God! That means I only have to deal with his shenanigans for two more years!” Knowing both emotions are completely acceptable and also knowing he said not to name or tag him - and that he didn’t say anything about blogging - are what 16 years of Motherhood have taught me.
This kid has always been a teacher to me and I have truly been in his service. In utero, I learned that music would always be part of his life as I had to crank classic jazz while driving in the car so he wouldn’t dent the steering wheel with his “indoor” soccer kicks. The wide-eyed, inquisitive, “Hello, world!” look given to us in the delivery room were a clear harbinger of the ball of energy that would be happiest with any type of ball to play with as soon as he realized they were more fun to grasp than an adult’s finger. Sleep? “Your kid sleeps through the night?” “Your kid eats what?” “Your kid…???” Not my spitfire who got into trouble in his first daycare for dancing on the table in the playroom or gave himself a black eye by launching himself off a recliner for rocking in a little too animated of a manner. My kid, who learned to scale his crib using his TOES and learned those same TOES could help him climb to the top of the door jam! My kid who rode a two wheeler without training wheels at 3, jumped said bike off the curb at four and participated in the X-Games by jumping his plastic trike OFF MY BED!
This kid has never been the best student, has never sat still long enough to enjoy a book no matter how many voices his mama made. This kid had to learn spelling words while bouncing a ball or riding a scooter around the house (yes, inside and around the house).
Mothering this type of kid has taught me motherhood, done right and in service of the little spirit entrusted temporarily in your care, needs to be handled on a case by case basis. Mothering this type of kid takes more patience, imagination and stock in Band-Aids. Being in service to this kid, means really focusing on what he is on this earth to accomplish, not what momma wants, not what society wants. Daily, I must ask myself to seek out his light and help it illuminate his little part of the world. Though I do believe, his will be a monster slice of our world. I pray for more patience, more understanding, more creativity, and more gear to help him reach his destination.
Somewhere along the way, amongst the gazillion mother-to-be books I once used to covet, I saw a theory that our little one’s actually choose us as their vessel in which to enter the world. That would mean, this boy-human chose me. 16 years as this kid’s mother have made me better and I am truly a Motherservant to humanity. I am an improved being for all that he has taught me. And I am grateful that HE CHOSE ME! Happy 16th, kid.
