Yesterday I took my sweet preteen son to the skate park. He has been really into learning cool tricks on his scooter (I’m sure there’s a new, teen-talk wording for that, but I’ll just stick to terminology I know, haha). He is getting really good! I picked up a cup of coffee from my favorite local small-chain coffee shop on the way, and settled at a bar top table with another “scooter mom” to watch what the kids were doing. Before he set off, I made sure his helmet fit securely, watched to ensure his elbow and knee pads were on just right, and then oversaw him tightening the bolts on his scooter. Of course, I didn’t actually HELP him do any of that, for risk of embarrassing the living daylights out of the poor kid; instead, I looked on as he did it himself. He is so old, so capable, all of the sudden, I observed. He gave me a quick smile, and scootered off toward the first ramp.
And that’s just it, friends. It all happens so quickly. I feel like it was just a few short months ago that I WAS doing these types of things for him. And buckling him into a car seat. And feeding him in a high chair. And rocking him to sleep. And suddenly, here we are at a skate park, and I am now a mere bystander, looking on as he soars off on his own. He is doing a mighty fine job, I might add. I watch intently as he stands, teetering, at the top of the highest ramp (apparently, the kids call it “The Mega Ramp,” and for good reason!), trying to decide if he is going to try it. I see the hesitation on his face, but I also know that in his heart he wants to rise to this challenge. Everything in me wants to yell out across the skate park “You can do it, son! You’ve got this!”, but I quickly catch myself and know that my loud cheering is no longer something that would be appreciated…especially not in front of his friends. So I decide to just watch, but my heart is both cheering for him and mourning the fact that he is too grown to appreciate my public cheering anymore. After much deliberation, he finally goes for it. He made it (phew!!)! And then, it happened.
He climbed back up to the top, so he could see the whole park, and he looked for me. Me! The mama! He smiled as his eyes met mine, as if to ask from afar, “Did you see me, Mom? Did you see?” My mama heart took flight. I gave him a big two thumbs up, and he grinned and went back to his scootering. My heart was bursting with both joy and pride that my son did, in fact, still want me there. He sought my input. He wanted me to be proud. And I am. This boy of mine is turning into a young man right before my eyes, and it is so easy to just keep going as if nothing is changing.
But things are changing. He is no longer the little boy whose hand rested so easily in mine. The little boy who brought me dandelions, or who once gifted me with his prize possession of the day…an earthworm. He is a young man now, and a fine one at that. He doesn’t want to hold my hand anymore, but gives me hugs whenever he thinks I need one (which is a lot). He doesn’t pick dandelions for me anymore, but he carries in the groceries instead. He no longer gifts me with earthworms, but he holds the door for me and brings me coffee. What a blessing children are, and I am so very thankful to have had those moments at the skate park to recognize that. Now, if I can just get him to take a shower on a regular basis…THAT is a true challenge! In the meantime, please enjoy this poem I wrote for him.
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