Noah Christopher Beall.
He took my heart over 15 years ago. He smelled sweet even after he spit up. He smiled with love in his eyes for me and thought I was the cat’s meow. He didn’t want me to leave the room. He always told me he loved me.
Now he stands over three inches taller than me and his sweet smell has since departed his tall, thin body. His introverted personality needs to retreat to his bedroom away from his extroverted mother and her “I just want to hear about your day” conversations. I am 187% certain that I annoy him on a daily basis but at the same time, he still calls me Momma.
(When he calls me Momma, my heart warms and my answers will almost always be yes. I pray he always calls me Momma. But don’t tell him because then he might use it against me and I will be forced to give in. Sigh.)
In 36 days he will obtain his learner’s permit for driving which means HE WILL BE DOING THE DRIVING and his mother will have to remain calm because HE WILL BE DOING THE DRIVING so pray that his mother’s already elevated cholesterol levels do not elevate some more because HE WILL BE DOING THE DRIVING.
(He’s actually a really solid and cautious driver. Praise you, Jesus, and Glory to God in the highest. Peace on earth and good will to men, amen.)
I am still not finished with lessons that I still need to learn as his mom. And goodness me, I have more sons coming up to keep practicing. Since I don’t really know how to raise teenage girls, this is mostly for moms of boys. But, you moms of girls, maybe it will help you, too. Here’s what I have learned along the way and am trying to implement daily:
- Don’t say much. He’s probably tuning you out after a dozen words anyway.
- Smile more than you frown. I don’t do this enough but I’m trying.
- Don’t turn everything into a lecture. Hashtag guilty.
- Laugh with him as much as possible. This has saved our relationship.
- Do not be offended. I repeat, DO NOT BE OFFENDED if he wants to talk to his dad more than you. AT LEAST HE IS STILL TALKING.
I would love to tell you that parenting gets easier. The toddler years can be tiresome because you tend to repeat the same things over and over and over again to your little one because they either flat out disobey you, forget what you said or just can’t reason yet. I’m afraid that remains the same in the teenage years. You still have to repeat the same things over and over and over again to your hairy-legged young man. Because he’s doing what he is supposed to be doing.
He is fleeing the nest.
And good grief, mercy and grace, it is painful. Girls may have more drama but boys? Boys know how to break their momma’s heart.
Doesn’t he know that he has my heart and when he hurts, I hurt? Doesn’t he know that I know what’s best for him? Doesn’t he know that I have 28 more years of experience on this earth and he would do well to listen to me? And doesn’t he know that when he makes poor decisions, I want to run in with my super-heroine mentality and save the day?
(Somebody get my cape.)
But he doesn’t know. Because he is not me. He is my son. He is not a parent. He is the almost grown child. He isn’t supposed to know yet. But he will know the moment he holds his firstborn child in his arms. And then, THEN, it will all come to him and he will say, “My momma wasn’t crazy after all.” And he will throw me a party.
Until then, I keep the crazy label.
Clearly, he loves pictures with his mother.
(And I promise you he will hate that I wrote this blog post about him. So, don’t mention it, mkay?)