This morning I ventured into my almost 13 year old boy’s room and realized that if I squinted my eyes, tilted
my head, held my tongue, and looked really carefully, beyond the chaos I would
see who my son truly is.
His bed unmade and blanket lying on
the floor, tells me how anxious he was to go out into the world this
morning, ready to confront the struggles of the day; obviously no time for bed
making! This boy is an advernturer!
Five empty of Gatorade lay on the
floor, like grenades, half hiding, waiting to be stepped on. They challenged me
to walk over them, snickering at me as I pass.
What a strange kid he is I think to myself, so in need of constant hydration and yet not enough
sense to toss these silent mom-bombs into his trash basket only 3 feet
away from his bed. Surely, this must be
a secret military experiment; he is waiting to see who explodes first, the room
full of empty bottles or his mom who will blow her top seeing all this on the
floor? Such a silly military scientist in
training.
Colorful plastic clothes hangers
wrestle on the bottom of his closet. As
I stare at this structural feat, I was amazed at how high this sculpture rises
from the floor and obviously I think, in this room sleeps an engineer or an artist! Perhaps this is how Monsieur Eiffel got
started before he designed the famous Parisian tower or his Statue of Liberty. Why,
it is like a modern work that rivals the likes of Klee or Picasso. This boy is so creative!
The dresser top is in competition
with the bedroom floor; strewn with not empty drink bottles, but empty cologne bottles. He goes through these fragrant sprays as
quickly as he sucks down his hydration. A Clearasil tube is evidence of his transition
into puberty. His collection of used toiletries makes me realize there may be
moments when he realizes that being a slob may not be so “cool”. Like his
father, my boy likes to look good and smell good too! This gives me some hope!
Around his bed, almost outlining
his silhouette from the night before, are rejected study papers, quizzes, stacks
of lessons. Here sat an intelligent boy,
doing his homework last night, catching up on old work. What boy has time to pick up
his own papers when he has so much more scholastic work to do? I realize I must not
disturb his algebraic formulas, as he will return to them this weekend I am
sure!!!! He is obviously a studious boy!
Who knew that 13 years ago I
would be walking into a boy’s room that makes my 50+ year old hairs stand on
end; that I would have given birth to a son who just doesn’t understand why bed
sheets need to be changed often? A boy who can’t conceive why his dog should
not be daily rummaging for snacks in his trash can or sleeping on his stack of clean laundry? Who would have convinced me that my son would
be perfectly fine wearing stinky khakis to every occasion on earth, or that opened
bedroom doors are better left closed and closed closet doors are best left open
(because the hanger sculpture make it impossible to close) and that washing up
means getting water all over the place except where it is meant to clean or
that clean clothes means that they were actually laundered not just that they
never made it to the hamper?
No one could have convinced me
how much I could love my 13 year old son so much despite his messy room and his
magnetism for dirt and his obsession for Gatorade and dirty shorts! I love this boy so much and I can’t imagine
how I could have ever lived without walking by his artistic/scientist/homework
lab every morning, a place we like to call
his bedroom.
Happy 13th birthday
Zachary Andrew!!! I am as much in love
with you today as I was when I first held you in my arms.
