Parent Transitioning Is Hard

Sitting in church and watching the families around me interact. So many little boys hugging their mothers, playing with Mom's hair, laying their heads in Mom's lap, stroking her cheek with grubby, chubby, toddler hands. 

Looks of love and giggles shared between a mother and son, as all of them work to keep their little dudes busy, while also trying to gain some spiritual nourishment. That bond between mother and son is so strong!

And then, as I sit there feeling a twinge of sadness that I don't have those little moments with my little boys anymore, my 18 year old son puts his arm around my shoulder and my mama heart melts. The bond has grown even stronger. The moments of toddler adoration may be gone, but the love is still there and sometimes they remember to show it.  

 #boymoms #theysmellbetternow #hestillsplayswithmyhair #theirstronghugspopmybacksodoublebenefits

Back to School: the High School Years. Reality Hits You Hard, Bro.

First day of school is in the books.  Some mild complaining about schedules and how everyone in the entire world who is worth knowing is in the same fun class with the best teacher in the entire universe, who is actually a stand up comedian that just teaches because he/she got tired of being famous - EXCEPT for my kids, who of course ended up in classes taught by Satan's 8th grade math teacher in rooms where each seat taken by one of their nemesēs from the last 5 years and they have to sit next to the talkiest, lamest, smelliest one that they hate the most, but have to endure because mom taught them to be nice, even to people who make their heads want to explode. Ah, the cruelty of high school.

Apparently it was all too much as everyone was in bed before 10 pm tonight.  Last time this happened?  About 3 months ago.  Feels good to be back on schedule again, dealing with real world problems...like schedule changes and 8000 parent signatures and smelly gym clothes.

Boymom Parenting Confession: I'm Not Ready for Teenagers

I have major writer's block.  I have had if for like 3 years now.  I keep trying to compose witty or compelling blog content, but nothing coming from my keyboard seems very readable these days. Okay, the truth is, there are lots of things I want to say, but I am kind of self-censoring because I want to make sure I say what I have to say the right way.  It's pretty raw right now.  So I will wait until I can share it in an impactful way.

  

Until then, I will proudly post this photo of my growing boys and share the fact that along with the brain fog that keeps me from being able to create a decent blog post?  I am also kind of having parental paralysis.  I have a teenager and a pre-teen, y'all!  Parenting at this stage is so different than it was when they were little!  I think I was a much better little kid mom than I am a teenager mom.  I am having a hard time engaging with them as they get older and that worries me.  I know these are critical years and I know how important positive parental interaction is for teenagers.  Being a teenager is tough!  And I don't want to be the person making it harder for them than it needs to be.  

I am so lucky that I have good boys.  But I know how quickly things can change.  One wrong choice, whether it be choosing the wrong friend or experimenting with drugs, can have such a negative impact on a kid's life.  So I need to step up and make sure that I am as equipped as I can possibly be to deal with life as a mom of teenagers.  I hear many of you laughing right now.  Not giggling...loud guffaws and head shaking coming from the internets.  And I know why. Because I think the answer to that is that there is no way to be fully prepared and equipped for what's coming. Because it's different for everyone and it changes daily.  And I must be insane if I think I can adequately prepare for what's coming.  Am I right?  I'm pretty sure I am right.  And to your laughing?  I respond with this:  "I know. Shut up."

 

So this is a shout for help to all my mom friends who have teenagers.  How do you make the transition from being a kid parent to a teenager parent?  How have you improved your relationship with your teenage boys?  How do you engage with them in positive ways when their hormones are raging and yours are changing and you both want to scream at the top of your lungs and cry instead of having a calm conversation? What if you have nothing in common with your son anymore?  What tips do you have for a struggling Boymom of teens to help her create a loving, safe environment for her sons?

I'm reachin' out, Boymoms!  Don't leave me hangin.'  Drop some knowledge on me.  I am open and willing to listen. But you should hurry, because the hormones are all over the place and my window of openness might shut without warning tomorrow!  

First School Dance and Funny Dance Moments in Movies

My son hit a major life crossroad this weekend.  He went to his first dance.  I had posted about it on Facebook, because I was a little worried about this pivotal teenage moment that he didn't seem to be taking very seriously.  Dude!  This is your first dance!  This will set the tone for all future dance experiences!  You need to be ready!  But he thought my concern was unfounded.  He refused to listen.  He actually told me I was making too big a deal of the whole thing.  Obviously he has no clue about the ramifications of a bad dance on his social life.  Whatevs, son.  He wouldn't practice his dance moves with me or dress up in something other than his "good shorts" and a clean t-shirt. Even his little brother told him he at least needed to wear a button up shirt.  See!?  Not just me!!  

Anyway...I drove him to the dance and I watched him get out of the car and walk toward the gym, knowing full well that I would get a call a few minutes later telling me to come get him because he was under dressed and didn't know how to dance.

But that didn't happen.  There was no worried call, there was no text saying "this dance sucks."  There was nothing.  And then 2 hours later, there was my son., getting in the car.

Me: "How was it?"
Son: "Fine."
Me: "Did you dance?"
Son: "Yeah, a few times."
Me: "Did you ask them or did they ask you?"
Son: "They asked me."
Me: "Slow or fast?"
Son: "One slow, one I don't know what it was. everybody just kind of danced together."
Me: "Cool.  Did you have a good time?"
Son: "Yeah."

That was it!  All that worry and stress and that was it! Shorts were fine, dance was fine, friends and girls he danced with?  All fine.  Ok, then.  Guess we're good to go on the dance thing.

To honor this rite of passage in my son's life, here are a few of my favorite funny dance scenes:
 

Riding in Cars with Boys

I know.  I KNOW!  It's been forever since I wrote a post that wasn't a product review.  But I'm gonna make it up to y'all and get back on the family life blogging horse.  I'll explain later why I haven't been big on writing about everyday stuff.  It's a lnog story and maybe not as fun as the one I'm gonna tell you about now.  So we'll save that one for another day.  In the meantime, just know I am recommitting myself to making I Am Boymom a more upbeat place to hang out.  So on that note...

I did something this summer that taught me a lot about teenage boys.  I took a road trip with my two sons and my nephew.  It was...interesting.  And stinky.  And LOOOOOOONG.

We traveled over 2500 miles in 10 days in a rented Chevy Impala. Which by the way, was an amazing car! Like I would totally take one and drive it everywhere while loudly and proudly singing its praises if Chevy were to see this post and ask me to be their brand ambassador.  Yeah...it's that awesome.  We were 350 miles into the trip before one of the boys pointed out that we had a sun roof (how did we not see that earlier!?).  Then he asked if he could stand up with his head sticking out of it while we were going 85 mph through Nevada.  If I am honest, I actually had to think about it a minute before I said no.  The possibility of having a giant bug splat across my kid's forehead and seeing his subsequent reaction was really, really hard to pass up, but in the end, my mommy sense took over and my child remained belted into his seat.  I have to admit though, we were all momentarily disappointed.

Chevy Stock Photo - forgot to take pics of my rented Impala!

So here's the trip in a nutshell: 

We bought fireworks.  The boys farted.  We got pulled over for speeding.  The boys farted.  We sang Thrift Shop, Can't Hold Us, Radioactive, Cruise, Brave, Locked Out of Heaven, We Own the Night. Love Somebody and lots of other current hits.  And the boys farted.  I went old school and sang ABBA, B52's, Aretha Franklin and ZZ Top.  The boys freaked out and begged me to switch back to their new music.  Then they farted.  We drove, we stopped for gas and food, we took road trip pictures, we hunted for garnets and we talked more than any of us have talked since they were all born.  We talked about Idaho, we talked about Arizona.  The boys talked about all the things they wanted to say, but didn't, to the cop when he gave me the speeding ticket.  We talked about school, we talked about politics, we talked about the civil war and we talked about...farts.  We laughed at a thousand different comedians (praise be to Sirius XM Radio for providing me with some fantastic entertainment options!  Best car radio experience EVER!) while the boys memorized every single G-rated stand-up routine I let them listen to, then repeated them over and over and over again.  We visited friends and went swimming, we visited grandparents and did some target practice and celebrated birthdays and lost new shoes.  And then?  They farted.  OH. MY. HECK. How they farted!  And just when I thought their tanks were on empty and I might have a reprieve from the poot wars?  The shoes started to come off.  FREAK how do feet get that stinky!?  Had we not had the sun roof to keep the air circulation at maximum capacity?  I might have died, people.  Okay.  Maybe not died, but I could have passed out.  Okay, fine.  Maybe not passed out, but I might have gagged once or twice.  And who wants to gag while they are driving?  I mean seriously, how is that even fun?

Looking for Garnets in Ely, Nevada

Stretching the legs in AZ 

Hangin' out with Grandpa John

So am I exaggerating about the smell and the volume of odor that was emitted from three teenage boys?  Maybe just a tiny bit about the volume.  But the smell?  Nope.  No way.  Nuh-uh.  Not even.  It was foul, my friends.  I'm sorry, Budget car guy, if the cloth seats absorbed that stench.  I hope you weren't hit in the face by a wall of stink when you opened the door to start cleaning after the Impala sat in the sun for a few hours.  

Despite all the miles, the flatulence and the toe cheese, we had a great trip.  I got to know my boys and my nephew on a whole different level.  I got to hear them sing at the top of their lungs and laugh hysterically at ridiculous things. I watched them bond over shared interests and ideas.  I listened to their plans for the future as they talked to each other about school and sports and Scout Camp.  And I finally started to see them, all of them, as capable people who have aspirations and hopes and dreams of their own instead of little boys who need to be watched over and cared for every single minute of the day.  It was a pretty revealing look at who my sons and my nephew have become over the last 11-14 years.  And can I just say how happy I am with what I saw? I have been blessed with such good boys.  And it only took me 2500 miles and some singed nose hairs to remember that.

Where Did My Little Boy Go?

This post is late.  About 4 weeks late.  Man how the time flies!  Is it just me or does it seem like the days go by in a matter of just a few hours lately??

Eleven years ago in the middle of August, I had my first baby boy.  He was the easiest, most well behaved, happy little baby I had ever had the pleasure to know.  And he was mine.  I still remember the overwhelming love that rushed into my heart when I saw my son for the first time.  I used to waste hour after hour just staring at him and watching him and talking to him and loving him.  He was, for me, the perfect little dude. 

Back then, he looked like this:

Now he looks like this!

It seems like the little boy in him is trying his hardest to escape and run away.  In his place?  I find this giant Man-Child who is only a few inches shorter than me with feet the size of a small Sasquatch!!  Inside of his growing body are hormones that have turned my normally relaxed little kid into a frustrated wanna-be man.  Not old enough to hang out with the teenagers, but too old to hang out with the little kids.  Not old enough to watch certain TV shows or movies, but too old for many of the cartoons he used to love.  It's a tough place to be, for him and for me.  We have lots of issues now that we didn't have before, because he feels the need to voice his opinion A LOT more than he used to.  He's struggling with delivering his disdain for our rules in an appropriate manner.   We are struggling with the fact that he is struggling. 

I wasn't prepared for this stage of his life.  I didn't really know who he would be heading into puberty.  I didn't realize that his normally laid back personality would change so much!  Of course, I am recognizing that part of his discomfort and lack of enthusiasm these days in due in part to the fact that more and more expectations are being put upon him as he ages.  Big Brother isn't a guy who thrives on challenges.  He likes his livin' easy.  He prefers a slower pace with lots of social interaction.  And he prefers that social interaction to take place without his parents present.  It seems we block his Chi or something. 

His independence is nothing new.   He's always been comfortable being by himself and he was the one who was happy to start school and have his "me" time away from mom.  I want him to be able to be independent.  But I want him to be aware too!  Big Brother doesn't always get that simply being away from Mom and Dad doesn't make you independent and functional.  He thinks things will just kind of take care of themselves.  It's one thing to think you can handle life on your own because YOU think you're smart enough to deal with challenge.  It's another to be fully aware that, at times, life will be tough and in order to successfully navigate it emotionally intact and independently, you need to be truly prepared with proper coping skills.  I'm not quite sure he's ready to make some of the decisions he will have to make about who he hangs out with and whether or not he will participate in questionable activities, ya know?  There's so much he still doesn't know.  He just doesn't know that he doesn't know it yet.  I know what he doesn't know though, because I flew out of my childhood nest completely unprepared for what the world was really like.  I found it to be a pretty brutal and unforgiving place when I was young, because I really believed that everyone around me was who they said they were.  Unfortunately, people aren't always honest and a lot of those people have no problem preying on naive, kind-hearted teenagers who are looking for acceptance.  Funny thing is?  I think I was a lot like my son.  I thought I was pretty world-wise and could handle just about anything or anyone.  Turns out I couldn't.  And some of my choices (or lack of action) left some pretty big emotional scars.  So I worry about Big Brother.   

But...Big Brother is growing up.  And because he is growing up?  I have to grow up.   Maybe that's what all this melancholy I feel is really about.  I should rejoice that he is growing up and becoming a wonderful young man, because he really is a wonderful young man.  He is kind and loving.  He loves to experience new things.  He has this really incredible laugh.  And he is working so hard to find himself.  I should be happy.  But I'll be honest.  I don't know that I am that much more emotionally mature than my son is.  He is actually striving to be a mature adult!  I think I spend half of my time running away from that concept!  How can I help him be the man he needs to be to have a full and happy life when I can't even figure out how to have a full and happy life of my own!?

My son, my small man, turned 11 this year.  He reminds me every day that when I chose to be a mother, I chose to help another human being come into this world and make a life for himself.  He's reached the age where I am way out of my comfort level when it comes to answering his questions and teaching him the life skills he'll so desperately need to function well in the world.  I've reached the end of my skill set. So I worry.  Because I'm not sure I can stay ahead of the curve enough to make sure he always has a well-adjusted parent available to offer support and  guidance and direction.  I have to step up my game now - big time!  And I'm really feeling the pressure.