I’ve been grappling with posting something for Bird’s birthday. As the boys grow up I post less and less about them. My firstborn turned 12 a few days ago. With the benefit of hindsight I see the qualities of his younger self manifesting themselves in new ways. They say that s children age, what started as tough personality traits morph into positive character attributes. We are standing in the blurry ground where we see this happening now. Bird has one foot firmly planted in childhood and the other ready to leap into manhood. He is nothing but eager to grow up, which makes me anxious.
While I hate the moniker, “tween” indeed represents these between years of childhood and adulthood. It’s a chronological no man’s land of sorts. This time in between is murky and difficult for us all. It’s also a time of pride and delight as I see my son grow and change and shape himself into the man he will one day become. He continues to be fierce and confident. He does not sway easily, for better or for worse. Some might mistake this confidence for stubbornness. I see it both ways, depending on the situation, mostly depending on if he agrees with my position on a particular topic or not.
While there are days I am frustrated and angry and wish there were more obedience in my world, I do think that Bird’s constitution will serve him well in later years when peer pressure abounds. Bird hides his gentle character for few to see, and I’m privileged to be one of those people. I know what’s in his heart. This kid has charm and confidence and smarts. From a very young age friends and teachers had seen something in him, some sort of ambition and drive. I don’t know where his heart and head will lead him. But I know he will end up just fine. Scratch that, more than fine. He’s going to do remarkable things. And, if things go his way, he’ll make a lot of money doing what he loves, whatever that turns out to be.
Here’s what I have to say to my newly minted 12-year old son.
Bird, I love you, but…you have horrible taste in music these days. Sometimes my ears bleed when we ride in the car together. Your uncle, my music aficionado brother, would lose his hair if he knew what you listened to. But I laugh and roll my eyes as I groan and am reminded of my own parents’ same reactions when I was your age. It is a generational thing to not be cool in the eyes of your child. I get it. Seventh grade was not that long ago for me. Remember I showed you my yearbook photo from seventh grade and you laughed and laughed and laughed? You are somehow skating through the awkward years while I trudged through them for years. You are as comfortable in a bowtie and collared shirt as you are in a dry fit basketball shirt and sneakers (Nike only). By the way, you are very into sneakers these days. You “window shop” online and know all the sales and brands. You just salivated over a grandma’s “shoe game” at the airport the other day. In your book she was ultra cool since her Nikes were so awesome. I have yet to figure out exactly what makes sneakers so swoon worthy, but I’m more of a boot girl myself. You come by this shoe business honestly since I’m pretty sure I’ve passed down that shoe gene to you. This makes dad lose his mind.
And by the way, you won’t wear jeans. In fact, you rarely wear long pants at all, even when it’s 20° out. And don’t get me started on a winter coat. You don’t even own one. You are what you call too cool for school. You continue to read voraciously. Your room is covered in sports posters, sports memorabilia, and a huge poster of the Clash (this would make your uncle very proud but not compensate for your music taste). Your bookshelf is arranged by category, with all book series nestled in together. The tidiness of it is impressive and makes this organized mama proud. You have always hated a mess. You unabashedly still hang on to your favorite childhood books, and you still nestle in for us to read aloud together with your brother Deal. Right now we’re reading Bud, Not Buddy. You’re starting to learn how to cook and even helped me make homemade pizza the other day. This would make Jennie pleased as punch. I’m proud of you, my Baby Bird.
You’ve just recently started calling us “Mom” and “Dad.” My heart cracks that the days of Mommy are gone. You don’t even slip anymore. Sentimentality does not fuel you so I’ll just say what I’ve whispered in your ear each night before you go to sleep. I love you to the moon and back.
