My life as the parent of a teenage boy is not glamorous. Most days it entails obnoxious want to pull
my hair out kind of situations. Days
where I wonder if I hung a for sale sign around his neck who would purchase
such a child. I realize I had a sweet
boy that thought I hung the moon. Then
he entered beast child mode. He has
testosterone pumping through this child size man. Not going to lie, it can get hairy at times. We
have had our ups and downs. The days he
comes home from jr high beaming from ear to ear, like a little child. Then the days he comes home beaten physically
and mentally. Those are the ones where I
turn beast mom and would love to drive to the bully and the bully parents house
and show my teeth. (Maybe, my beast
child got half beast from me. I can’t
blame it all on the testosterone.)
As, the parent of a teenage boy there are many things we
have to endure. Puberty is one of them,
boys 8th grade choir is another.
Both of these could be considered mildly painful. I find myself in both of these stages. Tonight, as I sit in the boys choir recital, I look around the auditorium I realize I am
not alone in this situation. Here sit plenty
of parents with beast teenagers trying to turn into adults. We all have one goal; get them through this awkward
stage of life.
As I sit at the choir performance. The choir teacher whom, I believe must be an
angle trapped in this life. Try as she
might she can not find her way to heaven.
Who else would take on 36 rambunctious, testosterone, ridden boys? She
motions to the all of the boys on stage, they enter from the right. I watch for my beast child to file in. Then I notice he is entering from the left. My
beast child was pushing a fellow choir mate in a wheel chair. I watch as they wait for all boys to take
their spot. I for a second, get a
glimpse of my beast child being a man.
With pure love and kindness he fist bumps the boy. My heart beams with joy, thinking “you done
good mama, you done good”. As they come
to their last song all the boys turn around.
I watch the boy with cerebral palsy try to turn his head, since he can
not turn his wheel chair around. As the
last song starts they flip around every boy with a mustache on. I see my beast child once again transform
from, oh so obnoxious, to caring. He
sees his buddy can’t get his mustache on, and leans down to help. Once, again I am beaming. That will probably be the only time in my
life that 8th grade boys choir brings me to tears of joy.
My beast child that has so much energy, the same one that
bugs his sisters to tears. The boy that
has made me feel like “I just might of screwed up when I raised this one”. The one that has been bullied and stayed home
a day or two from jr high because, “he just can’t face it”. This beast child gave me a glimpse of what
kind of man he is. I couldn’t be
prouder! I no longer wish he could just
fit in. I no longer hope he could be
popular. I am proud of who he is, and
what he does.
