I suspect if I measured him on January 1st and then applied the tape measure to his long, lanky body today I would see aÂ gainÂ of around 2.5 inches.
Could be more, could be less.
Don’t ask me to break out the defiance meter because the growth there has been explosive none of which is unexpected because even though he is his own man heÂ ownsÂ enough of my DNA for me not to be surprised.
But his expression of it is different from mine.
There is a teenager in my house who is growing faster than he realizes and perhaps faster than I
I put my fist through a door all the way up to an elbow, headbutted holes into the wall and tore the doors off of a truck.
They didn’t all happen during one crazy moment, nor did they take place over several months. No, these things happened over the course of five or six years and it started right around when I was the same age as he is now.
You aren’t hearing about this for the purpose of being told how tough, dumb/smart or crazy as was but because it is time to apply a mark upon time and chronicle a moment.
It’s time to remember that part of my acting out was because I refused to discuss much of what bothered me or felt like it was impossible to have a conversation about it.
Conversation Is Critical
Steiner the minor is confused because he feels like he is standing in the midst of Grand Central Station and everyone else knows where they are going.
He wonders why he feels like he is on the outside looking in and doesn’t totally believe me when I say most of us felt that way in middle school.
These moments between us, the ones where he tells me what he is really thinking and feeling are shrinking.
He told me that he only lets me hug him because I am his father and that he doesn’t like it. I laugh and tell him I am going to hug him anyway.
When he asks me why I ignore his wishes I say I am not and pull away, but he doesn’t always let me do it.
The boy is trying to run towards becoming a man and I am torn between pushing/cheering him on and slowing him down because we are on the downhill side of school.
High school starts in the fall and it won’t be long before the little man is in college. Still got a ways to go, but not that long.
So I do my best to help him grow, to learn how to stand on his own and be his own advocate.
I do what I can to help his skin grow a bit thicker but not so much that compassion is lost.
And I try to keep the lines of conversation open because conversation is critical.
He doesn’t know how many times people have complained that I don’t share my thoughts or how back in the day girlfriends would ask how I could be so silent.
He tells me he hates being pressured by the other boys to say whether he likes girls and swears he’ll never have a girlfriend.
When I tell him to ignore it he glares at me but not like he does when I tell him I expect one day girls will be far more interesting than they are now.
“Girls like talking. One day one is going to catch your eye and you’ll wake up wondering what the hell happened. And just when you think you understand it all you’ll realize you don’t.”
“Dad, that is not going to happen. I won’t have a girlfriend and I won’t need to talk to her.”
I tell him there is no rush and that I won’t apologize for saying ‘I told you so.’ He glares at me and asks more questions and I laugh and tell him if I give too many details he’ll need therapy.
He glares at me again, I tell him I love him and wrap him in a bearhug. “Conversation is important monster.”
The Return Of Conversation In Sex & Blogging
I am proud ofÂ Life Is About Painting A PictureÂ because there is something about it that just feels good to me. I like the writing and the flow.
ButÂ It Is What Every Blogger WantsÂ is still making me smile because it helped move the blogosphere back in time.
And I am like a billion other people, I want a time machine that I can use periodically.
Yeah, I said periodically because I don’t need to go back and change things every day. Some stuff is better now than it used to be so I wouldn’t screw with that.
It doesn’t necessarily have to be the stereotypical stuff, ya know the ‘go back in time and create the Internet, cars or computers thing either.’
Might be as simple as adjusting things so I stay in Texas or make the move to Jerusalem. And let’s not forget that night with…
Ok, let’s skip all that crap and talk about Postmatic again not because I am getting paid to but because using it is what has turned back the clock and restored conversation in blogging.
If you sign up for the emails you get all of the posts and you have the opportunity to comment and reply to comments from your email inbox.
I love the convenience and am enjoying the conversations and community. I didn’t realize how much I missed those, but I did.
You Can’t Stop Time
His hands aren’t as big as mine but they aren’t real little anymore.
If he leaves his shoes out you can’t miss them because they fit feet that almost look too big for his body.
All I have to do is look down at them and I am taken back 30 years in memory because that is what I looked like.
I am almost ready for the big run that is coming, but not quite.
Not talking about an actual run but the acceleration in time that comes with this moment. I remember it from when I was his age and something tells me that I’ll experience it again but this time from the other side of the fence.
You can’t stop time or go back, but you can enjoy the experience and that my friends is what I am doing.