My son is now 10, and inching closer to his “tweens” – a word that didn’t exist to describe my own years between childhood and adolescence. Does that mean I didn’t experience my own tweens or simply that no one recognized the unique development conflicts in the years of burgeoning independence and dependency?
If I believe the tween buzz, my son is at the beginning of the end of our closeness. Boys pull away from their mothers. Boys rebel against their mothers. Boys stop talking. Boys shut down from their mothers, hide their growing sense of self, sensuality, sexuality, and male power from their mothers, who are frightened of it and want to "tame" it, turning it into something they’re familiar with. The sphere of maternal influence is not only diminishing, but it hampers a boy's development in the world of men.
Well, we’re 10-days into 10, and this morning he woke up like he has done for the last 10 X 365 mornings of his life (minus sleepovers and such) where he preconsciously seeks me out and begins his pre-awakening with a big hug. We whispered about him still being sleepy (“schluffy,” as I call it), and that as soon as I was done with an email I’d come out and sit with him. He held on just a touch longer than usual, and I murmured into his neck, “Lucky, lucky Mom.” “Lucky, lucky Kid” was his response.
Day 10, and he can still be him - a growing boy - without shutting down or shutting me out. And I can still be me without needing him to be anything other than a boy straddling two worlds. I’ll be the one who stays in his inner home, and he’s free to come and go.
Lucky, lucky us.
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