Monday, January 11

Dear Wesley. {13 years old}

I skipped your 12 year old post. Don't think for a minute it was because I forgot. Or didn't have the time. It was life. That's it. That's all..... I know, such a broad stroke to make as a dismissive 'didn't'.... But that's how it's going to be...for here, for now.

Every time I sat to write, all those drafts I never finished.... the weight was too much, the words lead in a way in which I didn't want your birthday post to be, but the realness of life's heavy unintentionally wades its ways at times, so I wrote nothing, left room for air, waited it out if you will.

So here I am, with you at 13 year's old and me wondering just how exactly that happened.

I'm sure I'll regret having ever put this out from inside my head, but I feel like I've 'got this' at this age stage of the Mumma game. Maybe it's because I've coached this age demographic for so long or it's the general mentality I can relate to the best.... Either way, I feel more comfortable and certain in this phase of parenting than I have in any other so far.

I think you've realized that Daddy and I are ok, funny people.
I expect you to forget that for awhile here soon too.

I think we do ok, you and I. We don't talk much about the personal details of your day, I don't inquisitively invade and you don't gabbingly offer. Our relationship is good, I love how you catch me off guard with your subtle wit and quick humor. Your oddity in imagination mirrors my own. I hope you never lose that quirk in you that makes other feel like they can't quite relate. It's not a part of myself I ever felt was worth changing to make others more accepting of me, I hope you find that too.

You're such a good kid and generally always happy, I sometime am harder on you with my short patience when you're more challenging, not your naturally easy going self. I'm aware this isn't fair of me, I'm working on it.

You've started to test the waters of talking back and I can't say my initial response to this hasn't been a little harsh. You're a teenage, it's what you do, it's what I should expect. If you're to test these boundaries as minimally as you do, I should be thankful it's with me you're doing it with.
And I am.

I worry about some of the things that are making you aware to the cruelty of life and wonder am I doing the best by how I'm leading you through them?  The devil on my shoulder constantly tells me I'm not doing you right by accepting the bad so quickly without much question, acknowledging  to the point of complete opposite of dwell. Maybe the dealing and feeling of the less than fun should have more time spent under it's gloom.

I don't anguish about the poor choices you are bound to make, I worry more about if you'll learn from them enough the first time you make them.

I'm winging it here, Bubby. And I'm only hoping hindsight doesn't answer these concerns in a radical way for me.

Your hair's way long and you're the smallest in your class. You're kind, messy, happy, annoying, lazy, funny, and not at all considerate outside of your sense of self.... I expect I'll be thankful if that's exactly how you remain through this embarkment of teen, but I expect I'm only fooling myself with the thought that this is at all possible to consistently remain.

You're loved, looked up to, and always our Bubby, but Dude, you're 13. Seriously. Just how exactly did this happen?


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