The Big 1-0

Today, my little boy turns 10.  To be strictly accurate, for some time he hasn't been my little boy.  He is a boy and he is mine.  But at nearly 5 feet tall he's no longer little.  His feet are bigger than mine and when he stands in front of me, I'm looking directly at the top of his head. 

While JT is excited about double digits, I am a little anxious about this milestone.   I'm not quite ready to leave behind his little boy years.  This spring, he will finish the 4th grade, and with it his time at the lower school.  Next fall will land him in middle school and four years from that, the 9th grade will beckon.  I feel the passage of all this time; I'm just not ready for these years to fly by.

It seems extraordinary that I am the mother of a ten year old boy.  And yet, that's clearly the case.  This past year has found him at the intersection of life that is tweendom.  He is still a child in so many ways: his ability to suspend reality and still believe in the man in red; his amazing imagination; and his capacity to have fun for hours with just a few playmobil toys.  But in other ways, he's growing up and becoming a citizen of the world; one with a quick mind and a compassionate heart.  He's reading a book about Abraham Lincoln and the other day he asked me to explain slavery to him.  I started at the beginning and he followed along, asking questions and expressing a very adult outrage at the hypocrisy of humanity.  Days later, he keeps coming back to the conversation with more questions.  He's equipped with an terrific curiosity I am so proud of his incredible interest in the world around him.

The boy who was once my baby has got a lot of independence.  Shoes are tied and jackets are zipped before I ask.  Gloves and hats are located and crammed into pockets. He keeps tracks of dates and deadlines for his schoolwork.  And it's not just that.  He helps around the house and he's suddenly aware of me not just as his mama, but as a person.

A few weeks back, I had a leg cramp in my calf that seized up all afternoon.  At one point, JT found me on the stairs as I was yet again trying to rub out the cramp.  He dropped his pirate ship, helped me upstairs, and then patiently rubbed my cramped calf muscle.  His massage got the cramp to finally release but the most surprising element to me was his attitude that of course he could help me out of jam.

In the time since I have been a single parent, at the moments when things are at the most challenging;  when I have felt that I'm not really strong enough for the struggle, it's the thought that my boy needs me that has propelled me forward for one more day.   And so I pack one more lunch and wash one more load of clothes.  I just do what it takes to keep going.  But we've crossed into new territory in the last year.  A territory of mutual need.  I care for him and he does his ten year-old-best to look after me in return.  He's good at it.  In this boy of mine, I can see glimpses of the man he will become.  He's thoughtful, kind-hearted, compassionate, and helpful.  He does his mama proud. 

Happy Birthday, sweet boy.