Know what's really cool about having a thirteen-year-old?
Introducing him to classic movies like Die Hard without cringing at every swear word or gunshot.
Playing an old Super Mario game and kicking his ass - after you play the new Super Mario game and he kicks your ass, of course.
Seeing the great kid he's becoming, and beginning to see the great man he'll soon be.
Admittedly, that last one was pretty cheesy. If I wasn't so doggone smitten with my eldest gremlin, I might puke a little in my mouth.
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When Intrepid was born, we did a lot of things that felt perfectly natural to us as new parents. When he wanted to nurse, I would nurse him; I wouldn't go by what I thought his schedule should be, or what the books said. When I realized how much he would cry when I put him down, I carried him around in my arms or in a sling - I never left him to cry. And I quickly figured out that we both slept better together, so I brought him into bed with Geekster and I.
Nursing on demand, baby-wearing, and co-sleeping. Nowdays, people have a name for that stuff: Attachment Parenting. If it had that name back in 1996, I didn't know it. I just knew what being repeatedly smacked over the head by my instincts felt like, and they were telling me I had to listen to that baby boy, because he would tell me what he needed if I was willing to listen.
The naysayers roll their eyes at the concept of attachment parenting. They think it's some crazy tree-hugger crap brought on by overly-obsessed mothers. After all, why would you want to give up so much personal freedom in the name of your baby? As a 20-year-old mother, didn't doing all that stuff just cramp my style, anyway?
Not, really no. I would have needed a style - and probably a life in which to show it off - in order for it to be cramped. The Maven wasn't always all that, my precious lambs. She's like a fine wine or a good cheese, getting significantly more awesome as she ages. At the time, my life involved Geekster, Intrepid, and a handful of friends who hadn't completely vanished at the first sign of my pregnant belly. I had a lot of time to figure out how I was not going to conform to society's parenting standards - always a rebel, I am.
But the truth is, that quiet time was the best thing that ever happened to us as a family. We were young, open minded, and willing to do things that felt right and made sense to us. Those early days laid the foundation for how we would raise our all three of our gremlins - by responding to their needs, listening to our instincts, and making that bond as strong as it can be.
Ok, and maybe a wee bit of screaming, and some time-outs, and copious threats to throw out the Wii if they keep fighting and interrupting my damn mommy time. But hey, nobody's perfect.
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Intrepid is growing up at a breakneck pace. He's almost as tall as I am, and I can slip on his boots with ease. He goes to high school and deals with bullies and druggies and way too many girls already looking for boyfriends (back off, you hormonally-charged succubi!). He'll be driving in three years, voting in five, and getting exposed to a variety of tricky and often dangerous situations far too soon for my comfort level.
This is it; This is the time when we have to start slowly letting go of our baby boy, and hope we've done a good job. Raising a teenager is terrifying stuff. It makes every other stage to date look like a cakewalk.
(I suddenly got an urge for cake. Thankfully, we don't have any.)
But there's something else lingering in our household, and it's not just the stench of unwashed teenage hair: That pesky bond we've forged with our ever-sprouting boy seems to have strong roots. Intrepid touches base with his dad and I every day after school. He's confident, kind, proud of who he is, and enjoys having his friends over - even if I'm cracking lame jokes with them in the kitchen. He wants his parents around, hugs us often, and tells us how much he loves us. He's a good kid who enjoys being part of our family, as crazy as it is (and you know it's crazy if I'm in it!)
I don't lose sleep - yet; There are many more years to come. But I'd like to think that what we're seeing is some of the payoff from the years we've spent making him a big priority. From the time he was fresh from the womb, Intrepid has known he's very important to us and that what he thinks and feels matters.
You don't have to necessarily be an AP-style parent to have a strong bond with your child, of course. Even though that's what I do - which obviously makes it a freaking awesome way - there are other ways to do it, I'm sure. If a child truly knows how much they're loved and cared for - no matter how that feeling is achieved - good things will come of it.
I read a fantastic quote yesterday that said the following:
"Remember, you're not managing an inconvenience; You're raising a human being." - Kitti Franz
I could probably stand to remember that a little bit more, especially when my little
But I hope we're doing enough, so that, when we gently nudge each of them from the nest, they will soar - knowing they can always fly back when needed for a little guidance and love.
Man. That was even more of a barf-fest than the last cheesy thing I said. That's what happens when I blog late at night. My bitch filter gets flaky and I start being all nice and loving and junk.
