It's now official. My son is a man. Okay, not technically, but we did just manage to survive his bar mitzvah weekend. It was kind of hard to believe, watching him up there, that my baby was now a full fledged teenager. Of course, there have been the signs--the rolling of the eyes, the look on his face that says "mom, you don't know anything", and the three showers taken every day. (Not to mention the fact that you can smell his Axe body spray from every room in the apartment.) Still, it wasn't until I watched him up there, reading in Hebrew, giving his speech, and smiling with relief when it was all over, that I realized how grown up Ian really was. But I didn't cry. I swear. I promised him I wouldn't. He said it would embarrass him.
So now I have two teenagers! My daughter I can handle--I get the sudden tears, the slamming doors, the make up and even the overwhelming desire to change the planet (Amanda's attending her first anti-war protest next week! i'm so proud of my little neo-hippie). After all, been there, done that. But this boy thing is alien to me. Something happens to boys when they hit the teen years. Conversations seem to go like this:
How was your day?
What did you do?
Who's that on the phone
Followed by his battle cry: Do we have any food around here? (No one eats at like a teenage boy! He wolfed down six slices of pizza the other night!)
It's a good thing Ian has a lot of female friends. . .they give me all the details, every time they come over to hang out. So far, it seems Ian's still the funny, sweet, cute guy he's always been--at least outside of the house. Which is all any mom can hope for.
And the way I look at it--while I may have lost a little guy who likes to cuddle, and who thinks its really cool to have a mom who is a writer--I have gained a new source of material for future novels. One day I may try writing one from the guy's point of view. . .
As soon as I figure out exactly what that is. I suspect it has something to do with food.