Blogs Are Stupid

Doesn't anyone believe in Dear Diary anymore? What happened to the joy of putting actual pen to paper? And why does every ordinary Jane and John think they can write well enough to burden the world with their scribblings? It’s a mystery that badly needs solving. My first entry contains my thoughts about blogging and will set your expectations. The rest will probably be stream of consciousness garbage, much like you’ll find on any other blog. Perhaps we will both come away enlightened.

Friday, October 17, 2008

What Moms Are For

It was late. Too late for either of us to be awake.

But we tossed and turned in separate rooms for different reasons. Finally, he rose from his bed and crept into mine, filling the space beside me in a way he never used to.

He used to get lost in my bed, almost invisible beneath the voluminious comforter. Only the warmth of his body and the reassuring whisper of his steady breathing told me he was there.

Now, his legs extend farther towards the footboard than my own, and his knees and elbows knock against each other as he tries not to invade my space.

He wanted to talk.

He used to seek my bed as a refuge from nightmares and boogeymen; imagined things I could banish easily with just my presence.

Now, he seeks my bed for far more complicated reasons. I don't always have the answers he needs, and a hug is no longer a surefire cure for his broken heart.

But I try. It's all I can do.

So when he folded his body into the bed, I knew why he had come.

We talked about a lot of things and some of it was really tough stuff. I can't share it with you here, because it would be a violation of the trust he placed in me. But someday, you'll know what it is to be faced with problems that have no clear cut solutions. You'll know what it is to feel inadequate in the face of your child's trust.

But I can share this...

"There's one more thing I want to tell you Mom. But I'm not sure I can."

I can't even describe to you what goes through a mother's mind when her adolescent child says something like that. Fear. Just cold, sharp, unadulterated fear.

"When you're ready, babe. You know I'm here to listen."

There was silence then as he wrestled with himself. I resisted the impulse to fill that silence with leading questions. I simply waited.

He turned to me then, and though I couldn't see it, I could sense the bashful grin that adorned his face.

"I told her that I love her."

and then...

"She's the first one."

I think my heart broke a little bit just then. Some other woman had claimed my son's heart and now, it will never be completely mine again. But there was relief as well. No sinister confession, no terrible secret, no tearful unburdening. For now.

I grabbed his hand, now larger than mine, and squeezed it.

"Oh, babe...first love is so special. You'll always remember it."

"I sure hope so." he said.

He left me shortly after that, light and unburdened.

And I?

I laid there awake for a very long time.

Once it was us, experiencing the bashful delight of first love. The hope of reciprocity. The angst of rejection. Now, their time has come.

In some ways, I'm only too happy to pass the torch. I like the comfort of marriage. The security of familiarity. The easy companionship that comes from lengthy cohabitation.

However, I can't deny that the thought, though fleeting, is there...

Remember that first kiss? That first real love that wasn't puppy love or a a crush? Remember how your heart beat so quickly and your stomach fluttered and you couldn't keep from smiling?

Such sweetness.

I want it back. Just for a moment. Because I didn't savor it nearly enough the first time around.

And sadly, neither will he.

When the time comes, I'll remind him. I'll tell him about that night he stole into my bed and told me he was in love.

A witness. That I can be. That I can do.

Isn't that what Moms are for?


  • At 8:12 AM, Blogger All Things BD said…

    What an awesome, awesome thing that he can talk to you that way. I hope like hell that my daughters will be able to do the same at that age. That's such a testament to your parenting.

  • At 8:14 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said…

    Beautifully said.


  • At 8:23 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said…

    wow, you're the kind of mother i wished i had when i was a teenager.
    they are lucky boys!

  • At 9:39 AM, Blogger Tania said…

    You have such a rare and amazing bond with your boys. You should be proud.

  • At 12:09 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said…

    I have a HUGE lump in my throat. I was on the verge of tears...I guess your story is what I can expect in the next year or so with my firstborn.


  • At 12:36 PM, Blogger jess said…

    Awwwwww! What a lucky guy he is to have you to turn to.

  • At 12:39 PM, Blogger mamatulip said…

    This is such a beautiful post, BA. My heart is exploding.

  • At 1:48 PM, Blogger Kim said…

    Oh oh he is what 13? 14? Oh no my son is almost 12 - this is too soon! I'm not ready!

  • At 2:15 PM, Blogger crazymumma said…


    you made me cry. why? because he still comes to you.

    woah. gotta pull myself together. what a HUGE moment that must have been for yuou.

  • At 5:08 PM, Blogger Ms. Smoochy said…

    Oh Wow! B.A., that is just lovely.

  • At 9:33 PM, Blogger Pgoodness said…

    geez, I wasn't expecting that to make me cry, but I am...

    you mean I don't get to keep my boys' hearts forever? In love? With a GIRL, not his mama?


  • At 3:18 PM, Blogger SUEB0B said…

    Oh, why do you make me cry so??

  • At 12:27 PM, Blogger sltbee69 said…

    That brought tears to my eyes, BA. I think it's amazing that your boy, soon to be a man, is so comfortable coming to you about everything. I hope he continues to want to do that. Ah - first love! That brings back so many memories. I wonder when it's coming for my 11-yr old diva. Hopefully not for quite a while.

  • At 5:29 PM, Blogger Amy Y said…

    That was beautiful, Mama.
    I hope my sons and I have that kind of relationship that you two share ~ that they are able to confide in me in that way, when they have such things to talk about.

  • At 10:44 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said…

    That is so so good that he can come to you with those things. I want to be that mama to my daughter, too. That's so sweet.

  • At 6:41 AM, Blogger Woman in a Window said…

    And now I'm crying
    for me
    for he
    for you
    for the beauty of it
    the poignancy
    the heartache
    for the impending.
    Damn it!
    And only one cup of coffee!

  • At 1:39 PM, Blogger Day Dreamer said…

    This was beautiful.


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