Thoughts on Puberty

11 almost 12 year old boys are a whole new species. They smell funny. They act weird. Almost everything they have learned since birth about authority is magically deleted from their conscious being. Even the younger brothers notice ("Mom, I don't think I'm going to make it through his puberty time" lamented #2 with a sigh recently).

These beings vascillate nonsensically between childhood and teendom. One moment they are trying to curl in your lap, the next they are looking at you with undisguised disgust because you dared to require they wear a collared shirt to church. Chores are a personal assault on their "fun time", even though it has been an established routine for years. And the food! Oh my! The pickiness mixed with volume makes grocery shopping a new level of Dante's Hell. "Since when don't you like peanut butter? You've always loved peanut butter." "But not now, Mom. I just don't like it. And those apples were, um, not good. And I really don't like the crusts on my bread." Mom stares uncomprehendingly. Who is this child?

I'm just on the tip of this stage of life and I hear the snickers of the moms who have gone before me. I know, it just gets "better". But I already miss my little boy. The one who smelled like lavender baby shampoo and put himself to bed early. I miss the innocent questions and creative discussions. I miss being able to trust him to tell the truth.

So I look into the coming years of The Battle. I am so glad Daddy is here to step in and teach him the things I no longer can.