Logan got a new haircut last night. He looks like such a young man that it
actually hurts. It’s such a strange phenomenon, wanting him to grow up and stay little all at once. Although, the
thought of this hybrid man child is really frightening.
I think the time period that I worry most about is the teen years. I
remember what it was like for my mother.
I’ve heard it so many times before, there’s just something special about
a son’s love for their mothers. Adam wasn’t the exception and followed her everywhere. If she was in the bathroom, he would actually write her little notes and slide them under the door.
Are you almost done?
Circle yes or no.
As the baby, he got to stay up much later than we ever
did, much to my sister’s annoyance.
I can only imagine the shared popcorn moments when the house was quiet, Free Willy was on, and the worries of the day had drifted.
I also saw it change. Her special Friday nights with my little brother, the
ponderosa buffet, bingo scratch off tickets, and Fitch football games gone and replaced with can you give me a ride? Playing the role of surly teen, Adam grunted more than spoke. And while the mask of
indifference was just hiding the pain of adolescence, it still hurt.
I see this same devotion with Logan. He tells me that he likes my face. He calls me a “super hero mama” and thanks Jesus for me nightly as we say our prayers. I can’t remember what it is like to be alone in the bathroom or have a phone call uninterrupted. I am his world for a few short years, and then he’ll be gone. And there are moments when I look
forward to that—seeing him grow, fall in love, and change the world, knowing that it began with me. And other times, like this morning, hearing him belly giggle as he watches Toy Story for the bazilliionth time, face smeared with peanut butter, and wearing his green mater underwear, that I want him to stay this way forever. I’m not ready for the sighs and eye rolls of annoyance, choosing anything and anyone over me.
Of course, I know they come back. I know. I know…Adam is always calling my mom and even chose not to go away to school so that he could stay at home a little longer. He is getting married in two weeks, but his first love will always be my mom. She taught him how to treat a woman, to be kind to others, to place God at the center of everything, and to pick up your dirty clothes off the floor.(Sorry Alisha, I don’t think he has mastered this one yet.)
Now she gets to watch him start his own family, to bear witness to the fruits planted and nurtured with movie nights, and couch snuggles, promises that “yes” she is almost done in the bathroom, and chicken wings at the Ponderosa buffet.
I just want to end this by saying that Logan just walked over and licked my ankle.
That is all.