Growing pains

Here's an awesome link I received in an email.

Thanks to all of you for sharing your awesome stories!

School started this Tuesday, and for me it's a bittersweet time; my oldest "baby" started junior high this year. Seems like only yesterday the air was perfumed with the smell of baby lotion, now is weighs heavy with the smell of Old Spice, the odor of a young man. Toy trucks lay in a corner of the closet, forgotten like yesterday's news, and NASCAR posters have dethroned the cute puppy pictures that once proudly ruled the bedroom walls.

Reality jumped up and bit me in the rear the day before school started when Seth, Robert, and I met John in town for lunch. "Excuse me madam, but you gave me the wrong menu," Seth said politely, handing the blood-red colored menu back to the gum-smacking, bored looking, waitress. "I need the kid's menu."

"No one over the age of twelve can order off the kid's menu," the waitress said, handing back the menu.

Seth's face lit up at the idea of all the new food options, but my heart plummeted to my shoes; the menu was hard core evidence my child was no longer a "baby".

After the last crumb was devoured, Seth reached into his jean pocket and pulled out his blue nylon wallet, with Italia (Italy) emblazoned across the front, and clearing his throat importantly said, "I'll pay my part." He blanched when he saw his "part" was $6.50, but wordlessly took the money out of his wallet, and laid the wrinkled bills on the table. Already he was learning the cost of growing up.

There was a little extra bounce to his step as he left the restaurant; he paused at the door to give the young buxom brunette hostess a flirty wink Oh boy, it's starting already, I thought, rolling my eyes. To my surprise and irritation, the girl smiled shyly, and batting her eyelashes, said "Hope to see you soon."

Cool your engines honey, he's just barely a teen, I wanted to say. Instead, put my hand on Seth's shoulder and steered him out of the restaurant. In the parking lot, I instinctively reached for his hand. "I don't need my mommy to hold my hand," he hissed, jerking away and walking to the car.

He doesn't need me anymore, I sniffed, slinking into the driver's seat. Oh get over it, you knew this day would come, my inner voice scolded.

But not this soon, I argued.

That night, I watched from the living room as Seth thumped around in his bedroom, packing and repacking his school supplies for what seemed like 100 times. "Hey Mom, come here a minute would you?"

"What?" I asked from the doorway.

Seth ran and jumped onto his bed, the mattress bucking like a horse from the impact. "Tuck me in and sing to me, okay?"

"Aren't you too old for that?"

"Never. . .I'll never be too old to have you tuck me in. You can even tuck me in on my wedding night."

Ooh boy. I bet your bride will love that, I snickered to myself.

"Take me to school tommorrow?" he asked.

"Why?"

"Because I'm not sure where I'm going and--"

"And what?" I coaxed.

"I'm scared and I want you with me. Happy now?" he grumbled.

Happy? I was overjoyed; my half-grown son still needed me after all.