Posted by Catherine, the redhead mom blogger on Feb 15, 2009 in Remembering
Friday Brian came home with the information packet on High school (you should now be able to hear a pin drop in my brain).
High school?
I was suppose to have all my shit together by now. Just yesterday my son was 4 and hugging my leg – I swear.
I can tell high school is here. Brian’s friends fill the house and I am inundated with sounds of rock from the 70s/80s/90s. There are bags of different kinds of semi-healthy chips, keep-awake inducing video game drinks and shoes the size of medium size dogs strewn about the living room.
They walk places now: to the video store, Rite Aid (an oxymoron by the way), Taco Bell, the basketball hoop up the street, the creek at the end of the street and up about the hill behind us. Pretty soon they will take off on the city bus, then drive and off to college. We can’t kiss anymore – only hugging – and this is a rare occasion, except when I give him money. I know he loves me, this is part of the separation which is “teenage”.
He’s starting to like arguing with his dad and is almost as tall. I am going to enjoy looking at him towering over his dad within the year. Karma is everything.
Posted by Catherine, the redhead mom blogger on Feb 12, 2009 in Parenting 101
When I first became a mom, I was informed that during the toddler years, Brian would make huge strides physically, intellectually, and emotionally. These stages of development are called milestones. Once our children reach grade school we begin to forget milestones, until we are slapped upside the head with the teenager one: the hormone milestone.
With it comes a new form of communication language which I didn’t study for two years in high school and one year in college.
It’s mostly mumbling sounds of “Ugh” or some sort of short, grumbling noise-thing which makes me think I’m going deaf from all the rock concerts I went to in the 70’s and the too loud 80’s music I danced to (OK still dance to).
Posted by Catherine, the redhead mom blogger on Feb 2, 2009 in Brian and Mom
“Mom?’
(Hear the sound of a mother suddenly bolted from a deep, slumbering sleep in the middle of the night)
“Ye-yes Br i a n?”
“Mom, they said on the news Michael Phelps smoked pot.”
“I wouldn’t believe everything you hear son.” (Said through squinted eyes as I turn on a light)
“Mom, no they have a photo.”
“Good lord Brian it’s 10:00 why are you up? And why are we talking about this now?”
“Because I want to watch him in the Olympics in four years.”
“Sigh. Son he’s just a kid not much older than you with a lot of pressure. We all do crazy things sometimes … like waking your mother up to discuss something we can talk about in the morning!”
“But will they take away all those medals?”
“No son. He just struggles with ADD and probably a really active brain looking for new experiences. We can talk about it in greater detail when I am awake. But you should know that I still like him and it’s OK to still like him. I like Babe Ruth and you should hear the stories about him. ”
“OK, good, but why would a friend take his picture about that and give it to the news?”
“Ah, now that’s the part of the story I’d really like to discuss IN DAYLIGHT. Can we go to sleep now?”
“I guess. But since you’re awake, can I have some cereal and milk?”
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Rain is still a boy’s favorite thing:
Friday Brian came home with the information packet on High school (you should now be able to hear a pin drop in my brain).