i woke groggy this morning, sleepy vapors of a dream still fogging my brain.
i dreamed of new-old apartments with sliding doors, of seashell soap and people who whispered like yelling and benches that wouldn’t stay untoppled-over.
but mostly, i dreamed of b, my oldest boy. of discovering he had a girlfriend (i run into her mother around the corner of my dream, and she spills the news), and this girl is a little bit taller than my son, with clouds of dark hair and a guileless smile, and i like her on the spot but still cannot get used to the idea of my child. dating.
the good thing, and also the bad thing, with the hubby being a youth pastor is we have a fairly unobstructed view into the mind of your average teenager. by all accounts, it is a fascinating and surprising place, and also scary beyond all reason.
can i just say: i am largely unprepared for the arrival of hormones.
but here they come, flooding our tranquil home, leaving us knee-deep in crazy, and i know without a doubt that now is the time to pay attention and talk with him more, and also listen and listen and listen. and to not stand back or disengage when our children hit that point where they don’t seem to particularly need or like their old mum anymore.
[because in every almost-teenage boy there is a son who desperately needs his parents to treasure him.]