To My {Almost} Teenage Son



Where do I begin? Son, you are my first born, and the first person I ever loved more than myself. Starting off as a teenage mom, we have been growing up together. I can remember the first few moments we shared as you wrapped your tiny fingers around mine, and I said, “It’s me and you, kid.” You went to LSU with me and were present for way too many shopping trips. Now you are about become a teenager yourself. I would be lying if I said I saw any of these emotions coming. (Though I was warned.) There are moments when your adolescent sighs and nonchalant replies push all my buttons. Then in the next minute I will find you teaching your brother how to fix his toy car with such care. My concerns for you are changing and growing just like you are. I remember worrying about outlets and choking hazards. Now I find myself concerned about who you may be talking to on that headset while playing your Xbox or if you are going girl crazy already.


I know you hear me complain about how smelly you are (even though you take the longest showers! I am afraid to ask what is going on in there.) Sometimes I fuss about how you incessantly fight with your younger siblings or how that back talking habit will have you punished for forever. While I am well aware that I have the incredible responsibility of raising you to be a great man, I am still holding on to the fact that I am also the one that wants to hug you like you were two years old and sit you on my lap and rock you to sleep. It is much more difficult that I ever imagined to accept that you are changing. This change is happening at a rapid rate. I blink and there is something new you are doing or interested in. No one prepared me for what it would really feel like. I mean I am the cool mom, the young mom. I wasn’t supposed to get weepy about you becoming a teenager. I was supposed to be celebrating the fact that I would soon be sending you off into the world. The tears seem to flow at the strangest moments. Watching you get on the bus or shoot basketball in the driveway.

Son you are still one of my greatest joys. I am proud of you, and as we enter these challenging teenage years I want you to know I am still your mommy. If you hurt yourself I will still try to make it better. When you make mistakes I will still help you correct them. You are never alone. As you grow older our relationship will shift and change, but my love for you will always remain the same. You are growing up, and with every passing year I am loosening my hold one finger at a time. Trust me my hand will always be close by. I can’t say I want time to move backwards. I am looking forward to you growing up and moving on. As you are finding your way, so am I. I do wish I could bottle up moments and phases (even the irritating ones.)


We will continue this journey together, and one day I will be writing to my almost adult son. I am looking forward to seeing you become exactly who you were meant be (I am not in a hurry though). Feel free to take your time growing up. You don’t have to rush kid. There will be plenty “adulting” for you to do when it is time. This time in your life is all about discovery and challenges. I promise I won’t have all the answers, but I will do my best. I will try to help you with the swaggiest teen fashions and make an effort to be cool around your friends. One thing I know for sure, when I look at you I can still see that little perfect person I brought home from the hospital, all 7lbs 12oz. So if you catch me staring in the coming days as you cross over into the teenage years, don’t worry; I am just a mom looking at her baby boy.


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