This Will Pass

This afternoon as I was walking into a store, a mother and her middle-school aged daughter were leaving.  Their faces were lined with stress and they were clearly unhappy with one another and as they walked past me, I heard the mother say,”I know you are frustrated but you don’t get to speak to me that way.”

I know exactly how both of them felt in that moment; middle school is often a hard age for kids and parents alike and I could well-imagine the tone the daughter had used toward her mother; you could certainly hear mom’s frustration in her voice.  At the same time, I know well the feeling of being 12 or 13 and wanting to be taken seriously and be heard even as wild and inexplicable emotions spin their way through one’s heartland mind.

I wish I could have stopped them and said, “this will pass.”  To the daughter I would say, “she loves you unconditionally even when you don’t feel it.  Take a deep breath and try to be patient.”  To the mother I would say, “she’ll be out of your house and away at college in less than six years.  I know it seems like a lifetime away but it’s not.  Tread lightly; she needs you now more than it seems.”

I didn’t say any of this because I live in New Jersey and no one at the door of Michael’s Craft Store on a blustery Sunday is looking for unsolicited advice from anyone, let alone a stranger.  But I’ve thought of that mother and daughter all afternoon and I hope they found their way forward together today and for the next few years.  

Throwback Year 13

I started these posts to enjoy some happy memories of life as a full-time mama as I adjusted to life as the mama of a college boy.  Next week at this time, that boy will be home for Thanksgiving.  I’m looking forward to having him back in my house and under my care, convinced as I am that he needs a little spoiling and feeding.  

JT was a handful at age 13, alternately charming and sometimes frustrating as he made his way toward independence. That year, he enjoyed a birthday feast of the most unhealthy sort.

I quit fighting the battle over the need to wear long pants and a jacket, enduring the judgmental looks of other parents as needed.

I laughed where laughter was an option.

It was the last summer we went camping at Cape Cod, where the usual adventures abounded.

While we were camping that summer, I had a vision of what this boy would look like when he grew into a man.

This picture sits in my office, in a place where I spend my days with 13 year olds who, like 13 year olds everywhere, are amusing and infuriating in equal measure. It’s a reminder that 13 is on the cusp of big changes; the sort that bring an end to childhood; the kind that make patience, love, and laughter the best allies of parents everywhere.

Real Life Conversations with JT: Interview Ready edition

The backstory:  The back-to-school packet arrived in the mail last weekend and JT got word that there is a before-classes program from Juniors on resume-writing and interview practice.   We agree that he should attend the program and then I suggested that he think about answers to standard interview questions.  I offered a few for his consideration.

Me (as interviewer):  What is your greatest weakness?

JT:  I have no patience for idiots.

Me (now a nervous interviewer):  What is your greatest strength?

JT:  I’m not one of those idiots.

At that, I burst into laughter.  I’d hire him, but I am not your average employer.  Perhaps the workshop will help him to refine his answers.

Prep Scouts: Day 3

The last day of Prep Scouts was a field trip to celebrate Earth Day.  We went to one of the most lovely places in our area, Bowman’s Hill Wildflower Preserve.  Bowman’s Hill is an outdoor museum of Mother's Nature's wild-growing plants and it is a magical, lovely place.   The flowers and plants that can be seen at this time of year are called ephemerals because they can only bloom when there is warmth in the air and the plants can soak in the sunlight because the trees that grow above them have not yet leafed and blocked out the sunlight.  There were May apples, one of my favorite plants.

There were trilliums getting ready to bloom.

We saw bloodroot flowers and ferns just emerging alongside the bluebells and poppies.

There were fields and fields of bluebells alongside yellow celandine poppy flowers, so lovely they took your breath away.

Wildflowers in early Spring is guaranteed to charm even the most jaded of observers.  Of course, middle schoolers are not the least bit jaded and they enjoyed the beauty that we saw.  

We stopped in the gazebo to make a group photo.  Most of them held still long enough to have their picture made.

Wildflowers in April....that’s happy!

Prep Scouts: Day 2

Prep Scouts Day 2 found us busily at work with our friendship bracelets.  Most of the scouts had hardly finished their first before they were planning for their next bracelet, so that’s been fun.  Day 2’s second craft was the creation of seed starters made using shredded paper and flower seeds.  Each scout had the chance to make one.  

Our clever school assistant, Mrs. O, was the person who gave me the idea, and this one was a winner. Next week, we'll wrap up our creations so the students can bring them home and give a hand-made gift to their mom for Mother's Day.

Our cooking project was the creation of homemade salsa and guacamole, two activities the scouts enjoyed very much because both involved eating, a very popular activity for middle schoolers.

Today we head to a wildflower preserve just over the border in Pennsylvania.  It’s a beautiful place and with any luck the rain will hold off until we board the bus for the ride home.

Prep Scouts: Day 1

We started Wednesday's Prep Scout fun with the creation of old-fashioned friendship bracelets, which the students weaved for themselves and one another.  The bracelets are fun and pretty quick gratification for our efforts.  Once we started them, the students sat outside and worked on the bracelets while we prepared our other crafts and activities in smaller groups.

Wednesday’s second craft was the creation of marbleized paper, a craft I learned about on Cup of Jo.  We followed the procedures as instructed and then set out our cards to dry.  They turned out very well and the students are excited to make more of them today.

Later on this week, we’ll write hand-written notes on our cards.  We’ll put those in the mail before Adventure Week ends on Friday.  We wrapped up our day by hand churning cream to make butter, which we slathered on saltine crackers and enjoyed very much.  Today will feature a new set of Prep Scout adventures.  That’s happy!

Adventure Week Starts Now!

Each year, the Middle School presses pause on our regular classes and we switch to immersion classes organized around a variety of topics.  We include the 5th graders who will join us for next year’s school year and teachers chooses classes and topics that they are excited to explore with a dozen or so students.  We invite teachers from both the Lower and Upper School to organize a class and then we turn everyone loose to learn something new and have fun while doing it.  From the exploration of baseball statistics to fishing along the banks of the river behind our school, the students get a chance to immerse themselves in something that excites them.  This year, there are more than a dozen Adventure Week courses on offer.

My Adventure Week course is a shared project with a fellow teacher and we call it Prep Scouts.  It’s all the fun of scout-style activities without the unattractive uniforms, tiresome cookie sales, or inexplicable discrimination.  Instead, we’re making crafts, trying our hand at some simple food prep activities, and enjoying the outdoors.  We’ll wrap up on Friday with a field trip to a local plant sanctuary, Bowman’s Hill Wildflower Preserve.

The supplies are organized and we’re ready to go.  For the next few days, I’ll chronicle the day’s Prep Scout activities.  Let the adventure begin!

Season 2

JT had his first race of the cross country season on Wednesday afternoon.  We were enjoying a break from the humidity so though it was still rather warm, the weather was nice for a run, especially if you were the Mama cheer squad resting in the shade.  For an Upper School of 350 students, we’ve a fairly large cross country team.

JT likes running and he especially enjoys the strength and endurance that training for the sport provides.  He’s a good teammate and a terrific end-of-the-race sprinter, though he’s come to realize that he isn’t built like a runner and likely never will be.  Our school’s teams thrive on the combination of best athletes and good teammates and it’s a blessing that isn’t lost on my boy.  His favorite running mates are kids like him, in it for the training and the hope to best their personal times.

The JT I cheer on this season is bigger and stronger than he was last year.  In just a month of practice, he’s improved his race time by just under 4 minutes.  He’s proud of himself and just as excited by the teammates who have done even better than that.  That’s a testament to the coaches who make these team experiences so meaningful and a life lesson that will take him well past the 10th grade.

Man Child

Though I sometimes wish I could re-play a day in the company of a pre-schooled aged JT, he's no longer a lap-sized bundle of silly little boy.  I know that.  The problem is that in my mind, I am the mother of this boy.

Or this one.

Reality these days is somewhat larger than these boys.  While he isn't yet fully grown, he is running headlong into manhood.  Sometimes I feel my little boy slipping away and I just want to stop and embrace the moment.  These days he is big and strong and all sorts of teenaged madness, thankfully with a sense of humor and the confident knowledge that his mama thinks he hung the moon.

My Government Mule

JT, now 13 and sporting a height of 5 foot 6, the makings of a mustache, and a deepening voice, still moves around the house as if he is 50 pounds of 6 years old.  That he is not his mama's little boy anymore means that each morning when he rolls out of bed (or otherwise navigates the house), it sounds like a large wild animal has thundered across the floor.  

He eats like a beast uncertain of his next meal.  It's not unusual for JT to sit down for breakfast and then grill me about what I'll be serving for his lunch and supper.  He's big, he's loud, and he's strong.

Time to put him to work.

At some point in the last year, I realized that living with a son who is taller and stronger than me can be quite handy.  Case in point: mulch day in the garden.  I can certainly load up and carry the bags of mulch needed to keep the garden in good shape for the hot summer.  But why should I when I have my own beast of burden in house?

I am not sure where I first heard the phrase, "working like a government mule" but I am sure that I like it.  The boy made quick work of all the bags of mulch, allowing me to preserve my energy for spreading it around.

But that's a story for another day.

JT's Festival of Food

In the last year or so, JT's metabolism has shifted to teenage boy status and there are times when he eats seriously impressive amounts of food. When he isn't eating, he's thinking about food.  It's not uncommon to have him sit down for breakfast and ask what will be served for supper.  For his birthday, T and I promised JT an entire day of eating whatever he pleased.   It was T's idea and the notion was a huge hit.  Last Sunday was the designated day and it began with donuts for breakfast.

Lunch featured a festival of fried food: homemade corn dogs, fries, and onion rings.

For his supper, the boy went traditional: homemade fried chicken, macaroni and cheese, cinnamon apples, and corn muffins.

It was served with a side of Lipitor, so you needn't worry about the heart attacks we surely earned ourselves that day.

Oh, Thirteen

The other day, JT and I were at a local sports store acquiring things for the coming baseball season.  To qualify for store's discount plan, I needed to provide my e-mail.  I did so and then JT shook his head and announced that, "Sassafras is an embarrassing name."  Before I could say anything, the young man at the register looked at JT and said, "I think it's cool."  Then he looked at me and said, "I'm 22 and I no longer think my parents are stupid."

So, yeah, there is hope for me.

Mama's Boy

For most of the last 6 months, T and I have been making jokes about JT being 12-teen.  We are referring to the arrival of adolescence with its attendant mood swings and hormonal surges.  Today, JT turns 13 and is "officially" a teenager.  This is both a cause for celebration and a moment to pause and prepare for the roller coaster ahead.

In the last year, he has grown more than 3 inches and he's now taller than me.  Kid and boy-sized clothes are out of the question.  I swear that if I watch closely enough, I can see his gangly legs stretching before my eyes.  I sometimes call him Baby Hulk because he is at times completely unaware of his size and strength.  He clatters through our wood-floored house and it sounds like a herd of elephants are on the stairs.  He swings his arms and legs around and my instinct is to duck and get out of the way.  I know he doesn't intend any harm, but wow he is big and strong.

I was once a 13 year old and so some of what he is feeling is familiar to me.  But I wasn't ever a 13 year old boy and though it seems like a silly cliche to say it:  boys are different.  In the aftermath of his concussion, an injury that happened when he was taking on a physical challenge,  I've realized that as he grows taller he's also becoming stronger.  This newfound strength and power is truly a wonder to him.  Sometimes, he quite literally doesn't know what to make of his ever-changing body.  At other times, he's only too eager to leap on a physical challenge.  For a mama, this is both exciting and terrifying to see.  I've a feeling I've not made my last trip to the ER.

If 13 is anything like the last few months of 12, it will feature strong opinions joined with strong emotions.  But lately, just when I despair that he will ever see the big picture, he says or does something that reveals a startling self-awareness and ability to sympathize with the world that makes my heart swell with pride.  And so I keep at the job of being JT's mama and I love him with a joy and a power that has only grown since the day this baby first came into my world.  He's a well-loved young man, this child of mine.  And no matter how tall and powerful he grows, he'll always be his mama's boy.

Though seriously, kid, why so tall?

Luis Miguel

When Baby-Think-it-Over moved into our house, I was amused and slightly anxious.  He looked so innocent, but that electronic baby might very well be the devil.

After explaining to me that Spanish names sounded better, JT named his baby Luis Miguel.  I think that Latin American baseball players may have played a role in this decision.  When Luis Miguel settled in to a habit of eating every two hours, JT announced that he was raising a big hitter.

In fact, Luis Miguel behaved rather remarkably like a real baby.  He needed frequent attention and we had to sort out why he was crying.  The crying changed in tone when he recognized that a loved one was caring for him (there was electronic recognition from a bracelet JT wore).  Then JT had to sort out why he was upset - did he need a fresh diaper? was he hungry? did he wish to be burped?  did he just want to be held and rocked?  By the second day, JT was largely able to figure out what Luis Miguel needed.

Of much greater value, however, were the conversations that Luis Miguel generated.  We talked about what it's like to care for a baby, how big a responsibility it is, and how nice it feels to know what the baby needs.   He asked what it was like when he was a baby and he seemed genuinely surprised to discover just how much work was involved in caring for a newborn.  

With any luck he also learned that he's not ready to be a teenaged father.  Because I am not quite ready to be a Grand Mama.

Real Life Conversations with JT: Single Parenting edition

The backstory: In his Values & Choices class, JT is required to look after a baby (Baby Think it Over) for a few days, including bringing it home for the weekend.   The baby is computerized and he cries, needs to be fed and diapered, and otherwise interrupts your life like a real baby might do.  When the class first began, JT feared this was a joint project and he was worried about his co-parenting options.

JT:  If I don't choose the right partner for the baby project, I'll have to do it all the work on my own.

To my eternal credit, I didn't make the obvious caustic observation that I know damn well how he feels, having chosen unwisely and therefore ending up a single parent who does all the work on her own.  By golly, I wanted to say it, oh how I longed to be sassy.  But I'm an adult and I refrained.  Instead, I stuck to another script.

Mama:  I'll help you out son, and I wouldn't worry about it quite yet.

As it turns out, single parenting is the law when you take possession of Baby Think it Over.  He moved in to Sassafras House yesterday afternoon.  After some negotiation, JT did not name the baby Salmonella, as he originally proposed.  I think that's the start of some quality parenting.

The Horror

This year, JT is enrolled in a course called Values & Choices.  It's a class that combines health, sex ed, some character education and, near as I can tell, JT's increasing horror that anyone would say the words penis and vagina out loud and in the company of girls.

The funny thing is that he knows all this information and I'm not the sort of parent who is embarrassed about laying out the facts.  I want JT to like his body and know how it operates.  I'd like him to grow up and have a healthy sex life and I think honest information is the way to make that happen.

Even so, I'm finding that he's a bit of a prude.  Case in point: in the back of the Values & Choices book are diagrams of  human bodies, complete with vagina, uterus, penis and testicles.  He showed them to me and then shook his head in disappointment as he noted, "this sort of thing is really for parents, not kids."

I refrained from pointing out that the parents had clearly mastered basic anatomy in the process of becoming parents.   No 7th grader wants to have that image reinforced any more than necessary.

Independence Day?

In preparation for our annual camping trip, I confirmed our bike reservations yesterday.  To do so, I needed to measure JT's height.  Last year, I reserved a bike for a 4 foot 11 inch kid.  This year, I needed a bike for a kid who is 5 foot 3 inches tall.

I am 5" 3'.  Gulp.

This has occurred despite the fact that the boy lets not a single vegetable pass by his lips (and, as I frequently explain to him, ketchup does not count as a veg).  It's an ice cream, chip, and cookie-fueled development, all this height.  He's not a boy nearly as much as he's a young man. 

Good golly.

Funky

The backstory:  Though he can generally be relied upon to bath with soap, at times the boy seems to find washing up to be a waste of his time.  To whit, the following post-shower conversation.

Mama:  Did you use soap on your armpits when you bathed?

JT:  Maybe.

Mama:  Maybe?  As in maybe not?  Because your armpits smell like onions.

JT:  Well, Mama, that's just lucky for you, I guess.

Readers, I wouldn't call it lucky.

Real Life Conversations with JT: Adolescence Calling

The backstory:  We headed over to VW yesterday to: 1. get our new license plates and 2. get someone there to program the radio so that we can listen to the ipod in the car.  I'd loaded the ipod with hundreds and hundreds of songs, some of which JT likes, all of which I like.  But it seems that some of those songs have the potential to bring him great social shame.

Mama:  Do you want to watch while we figure out the ipod?

JT:  No.

Mama:  Why not?  I could use another person to understand how this works.

JT:  Fine.  (whispering) But make sure you tell them this isn't my music.  It's yours and yours alone.

Oh, adolescence.  Keep your mitts off my baby.