The boys had a dentist appointment this week. Now, most of you who know me know that I have some sort of demented relationship with the dentist. I didn’t go for four or five years – and when I finally did go, imagine my surprise when I had two longggg days of dental work to fix the previous five years of non-dental compliance. So, it’s important for me to make sure the boys go and have a good experience.
Andrew – well, I thought he was going to end up like me. He’d cry and carry on – they wouldn’t even be able to clean his whole mouth. We’d get either the top or bottom cleaned and that was THAT. The dentist could look in, but no work was going to be done. Then Keenan said, “take your I-pod.” THANK YOU, KEENAN! We have a playlist just for him that he can use and control when he’s at the dentist. This last visit, no crying, no whining, no trauma whatsoever. Of course, with his ears all plugged up with Ipod, he talks at 100 decibels….. And really, the only trauma that we experienced was when he tried to dance to the music in his ears. Really, the boy has NO rhythm.
And then there was my trauma at the dentist. No not during my visit (which was a week ago and I can happily report no tears, no whining, no frustration. And the hygienist even complimented me on my music, which was blaring. Seems that everyone getting dental work done that day listed to my “dentist playlist.”), but at the end of the boys’ visit. Their dentist, Dr. Nichols, told me that they were old enough for grown up toothpaste.
I am just so not ready for them to grow up. So much so that the mere mention of Crest Tartar Control Toothpaste might cause me to cry.
(Of course, they did get into a fight last night over which new toothbrush from the dentist was theirs… and then maybe I was wishing they would grow up just a teeny bit.)
And Colin. He wants to grow up so dang fast. Every morning he will come up to me and remind me that now he is a teenager. “Remember, momma, I’m a teenager today. I am twenty.” When I point out that a 20 year old isn’t a teenager, he’ll reply, “okay, then, let’s just pretend I’m sixteen.” He’ll then pack his pretend suitcase, march up to me, give me a big smooch and a big hug, and tells me he’s off on an adventure and isn’t quite sure when he’ll be back. And off he goes into the backyard to pretend to find monsters. I don’t cry at this, because I know it’s pretend. I may cry the first time I have to drop him off at “sleepaway” camp. And don’t even get me started on when he goes off to college. I may just start to bawl now.
All of this is made just a bit more poignant because I got news yesterday that my friend, Diane, had horrible news the day before. Her son, Robbie, was killed in a car accident. Robbie was 17 years old. I’ve known Diane since he was a baby – we first worked together fifteen or sixteen years ago. I got the news when I was at work, and could just stare up at the pictures of my two boys. I cannot begin to imagine what she must be going through. A single car accident – no one really knows what happened. It was 2:30 or 3:00 in the morning. Lots of people will make assumptions. Heck, I’m one of them. For that split second you think to yourself, “What was a kid that age doing out at 2:30 a.m.?” Never mind that there are plenty of reasonable explanations, you automatically think the worst. But ultimately, that doesn’t matter. Diane lost her son. Linsdsay lost her brother. Bob lost his son. It made the front page of our paper this morning. Looks like many people lost a good friend. A coach lost his star soccer player.
I was putting the boys to sleep last night, thinking, I don’t want you to grow up. I don’t want you to drive a car. I don’t want you to do stupid things just because you’re going to try and impress some girl or your friends. I don’t want you to drink too much. I don’t want you to take drugs. There are lots of “I don’t wants” to happen. And when I started to boo hoo, my sweet boys came up to me, gave me a “sandwich” hug and rubbed my back. And made me think, “Yes, I do want to see the men that boys such as this can become.” But don’t be too surprised if I cry a lot along the way.
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Sunday, July 20, 2008
Surfin Safari and climbing monkeys
The boys and I went to the beach after a LONGGGG day with the cub scouts at James Island County Park. They both tried the Alpine Tower. "Tried" is the operative word. I was pleased, because the night before and in the car on the way there, they both said, "I'm not doing this." So I am proud of them for suiting up and attempting (before they decided two feet off the ground, "I'm not doing this.")
Going to the beach at 5:00 p.m. is the ticket - no traffic, no sunscreen, no crowds. I love it. Anyhow, the videos will be used as blackmail when they have serious girlfriends..... :-)
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