Tightrope Tuesday: It's High Noon!

             I’m in a rush today, so I’ll have to keep this brief. I was waylaid by the arrival of my mother on my doorstep last night (if you want to know about that relationship, read my novel Saved by the Music.) Suffice to say, I had a rough time until the Valium kicked in.

            Today I’m feeling kind of sunrise-sunsety. Except the sun’s not setting. It's at "high noon."  But the metaphor works when thinking about my kids – especially Michael.

            I can’t get over him being 17, a high-school senior, and a licensed driver. I mean I can, but then suddenly the thought hits me: “How did this happen?”

            He’s soooo tall!

            I’m used to him towering over me, but I glanced at his leg the other night and was struck by how adult it was. You know, hairy. Like the leg hanging over the bridge on the Pirates of the Caribbean ride at Disney – but without the grime.

            When did puberty occur? He was so quiet about it. Unlike my younger son Casey, who is reveling in puberty like it’s Mardi Gras and asking me questions which make me blush.

            Michael has always been one to work things out quietly. When he was little and we went somewhere, the first thing he would do is scope out a “mad place.” Usually, it was under a table. This was a place he could go when he got upset, and he would stay there until he worked it out.

            He made himself his own time-out place!

(This is not Michael - it's a Google Image)

            He only threw one fit in his childhood, when he wanted a pacifier in a drugstore, He had a collection in his pockets. “Me-me! Me-me!” he cried, pointing.

            “No more me-me’s!”

            “Me-me! Me-me!”

            I took his hand and tried to lead him away, but just like in the picture book Knufflebunny, he “went boneless.”

            “Me-me! Me-me!”

            I was dumbfounded. He’d never acted like that before. But I knew enough not to buy him that me-me. I dragged him out of the store. It must have been very disturbing for bystanders.

            When we got to the sidewalk I asked him, “Done now?”

            He nodded and stood.

            That was it. He must’ve realized that the fit tactic was futile with me. That’s the kind of kid he was – and is (even though he’s a man now.) He learns from experience. Can you imagine?

            We have such a great relationship. At a college visit on Saturday¸ one of Michael’s friends' mothers asked me, “Do you two just laugh together all the time?”

            We do.

            Somehow, my son turned out to be the perfect man I could never find for myself. He is empathetic, honest and reliable. He’s a man of his word. He’s self-motivated. And he’s darn good-looking to boot.

            How about that?

Michael & me: And he was only about 13 here!