(The following monthly post is part of a fine art photography blog circle. Please continue in the circle by clicking on the next photographer’s link at the bottom of the page.)
Tween. That in-between time when the younger person living in your home and eating your food is too old for toys but too young to officially move on to the great abyss known as the teenage years. It’s the start of adolescence and a time for moms everywhere to wonder what the hell just happened and who did “what” with their child. For me, the “change” was evident when my little guy, who refuses to cut his hair, looked up from his current Lego creation to reveal a faint shadow of a mustache growing just below his nose. What?! Did someone take my son and replace him with this 1970s floppy-haired, disco dude? He still SOUNDS like a child and he still likes to PLAY with stuff, but now his shoe size is found in the men’s department, his room emits unspeakable odors, and a simple “do you have any homework” can end in a screaming fit of “why did you ever give birth to me?!” What?! Who took my adorable, friendly child and replaced him with this Hairy Man-Child?!
The older he gets, the hairier he becomes. And the less concerned he is about cleanliness. Plate full of dried-on ketchup? Sitting on his floor for five days now. Half of a milkshake left on his desk a week ago? Now it’s curdled yogurt. And a simple question in the morning before school like, “Are you sure you washed your hair in the shower?” is responded to with a very loud, “YES, MOM! Gah!” even though the top and back of his head are completely dry when he leaves the bathroom and his hair smells like waxy crayons. But what’s interesting and offers the last glimpse of hope and peace for motherhood is how quickly this large, Hairy Man-Child can go from a complete emotional breakdown because – heaven forbid, we ask him to pick up his socks – to the sweet, loving, talkative son we knew we still had. In only a matter of seconds. It’s almost scary.
His interests at times still bear a resemblance to what someone much younger might enjoy…making paper airplanes, designing weapons with clothespins…but now, without parental supervision, his chosen activity would be to sit for hours on the couch, headphones on, watching a Youtube video of a middle-aged man playing Minecraft.
I miss my little boy, but even though he’s hairy and unkempt, I really am happy to see the young man he’s slowly, begrudgingly molding into. But a word of advice for anyone reading this post. If you see my Hairy Man-Child in public, approach slowly, smile shyly, and try not to make eye contact. And whatever you do, if only to help ME maintain a little peace in my home, do not, I repeat, DO NOT mention this post. EVER.
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Please continue on in the fine art photography blog circle by visiting the very talented Skye…. January Skye in Melbourne, Australia.
