A Tween in My Kitchen

These ham and cheese omelets are special.  They mark a change of enormous proportions in our house.

Because, they were made by my 11 (and 3/4’s)  year old  SON.  All on his own.  To share with me.  Just because.

I’m thinking someone snuck in when I wasn’t looking and swapped my first little baby boy for this…this…what?  That is both the question of the day, and the heart of the change.

• My oldest son is not really a child any longer.  But he isn’t an adult yet, either.  And technically, he isn’t a teen.
• He doesn’t shave.  But he needs deodorant.
• He helps run the bath for his little brother.  But he hates to brush his own teeth.
• He wears my shoes.  But he doesn’t like to take the trash out after dark.
• He’ll gladly help a stranger.  But he moans and groans at helping his parents.
• He’ll wear only certain clothes.  But he could care less if he combs his hair.

In short, on any given day, he randomly acts in such a way as to make me wonder just how I should be parenting him.

I’m trying to develop a habit of looking him straight in the eye, keeping my mouth closed, and waiting.

Waiting for him to either make the right choice.  Or correct a bad one.

I do realize that I could be waiting FOR-EVER.  But somehow, I think the rules are changing on me.  I can’t simply pull out a spoon and threaten his little behind anymore.

Tonight is the Fifth Grade Graduation Program.  I’ve known it was coming all year.  But the significance of this year’s end didn’t hit me until I saw him.  In the kitchen.  Making eggs.  Not looking like a child at all.

I’m really and truly about to become the mother of a Junior High School Student.  Aren’t I?!  (Ready, or not.) 

I’ll let you in on a secret.  I’ve always shied away from working with the Junior High groups because they make me strangely uncomfortable.  Yet, this boy is mine.  And I’m pretty sure God isn’t going to step in and save me from the next few years of craziness. 

I am INCREDIBLY THANKFUL to have God on this ride.  Thankful that He already knows the new rules.  And that He’ll be patient when I mess them up. 

My son is teaching me, as much as I am teaching him.  We are both being stretched, and I have a feeling there’ll be lots more stretching! 

Because, (Lord have mercy!) there’s a tween in my kitchen!