Puberty

I promised myself I would write a post about Connor--there are so many things to say about him that I had trouble finding a place to start.  So obviously, I chose puberty.  Because I want people who read this to feel as uncomfortable with that word as I do (so thoughtful of me, right?).

I recently took Connor in for his 9/10 year checkup.  I was expecting the same kind of visit as we've had for almost 10 years, except I convinced him that there would be no shots (to be fair, I was only about 75% sure there would be no shots--but there is no music loud enough to drown out a hyperventilating kid in the backseat).  Turns out, the visit was a complete surprise.  He did get a shot, which put me in the mommy penalty box, and there was also talk of...puberty.

WTF?  The doctor was all rational about it, giving him handouts, giving me handouts, telling me to look over all of them and to talk to Connor about it...she acted like this was no big deal.  No big deal?!?  Guess what?  IT'S A *BIG* FREAKING DEAL.  When I look at Connor, I see an angelic little 4 year old heading off to pre-K, not some soon-to-be preteen boy that hides out in his room with a moody disposition and is perpetually annoyed by his parents (ok, another honesty moment--he does play in his room a lot and gets annoyed from time to time, but that's human--not PUBERTY).

So, Connor reads the handouts on the way back to school, but doesn't say a word.  Then I head home with the baby and enough handouts to teach an entire fourth grade classroom about what happens to all of their bodies during this "time".  I read the handouts.  Extremely detailed and *very* thorough.  I spend the remaining four hours until Connor gets home from school on the verge of a panic attack.  What if he asks me about sex?  The handouts talked about "wet dreams", how the f/ck am I going to explain that one?  It talks about "hair down there" and "noticing that your arms, legs, and armpits will become hairier.  2:30pm came, I put on extra deodorant and prayed for the best.

Oh, did I mention that Dylan was traveling at this time?  Yeah, no male backup to be had.

But guess what?  Connor doesn't say a word about the handouts.  There they are, staring at me from the kitchen table and I panic when he puts his lunchbox down right next to them.  Still, nothing.  Big sigh of relief.  I am home free, at least for now...

As Connor is playing Legos and I'm giving Matthew a bath, I marvel at the fact that I am bathing this little baby while a preteen plays across the hall.  Next up, shower time for Connor.  Dun, dun, dun...I have to ask the question, I'm dying to know what he thought of the handouts--I've been obsessed with this for almost 8 hours now.  So I say, "Did you read the handouts the doctor gave you?".  Connor, "Yep".  Me, "Do you have any questions?  I mean, some Dylan will probably be better to ask, but you know...".  Connor, "Actually, I do".  Me, "Oh shit (what ran through my head)".  What I really said, "Okay, what?" with a big, fake, everything's cool, come talk to mommy smile.  And he looks at me while standing buck-naked in the family room and says, "I really don't want to get zits or pimples".  I blink.  I blink again and again.  That smile is now a look of puzzlement.  You mean to tell me a 9 year old boy reads about penises growing larger, hair growing in "special places", wet dreams, having "funny feelings about people you like" (I could go on and on...) and he's worried about ZITS?!?

Big sigh of relief--actually, I felt a whoosh of all that panic flood right out of me.  I ask him to go put some pants on (please) and we'll talk.  I reassure him that we'll help him take care of his skin, that he has perfect skin now, but that no matter what, we'll work hard so that he's always confident.

Look, I know the talk will have to happen soon.  But until then, he's still my baby boy and I'm going to hold on to that for as long as I can.  He is brilliant and understands many things and a small part of me thinks he might already have this puberty stuff down.  He's amazing--not only intelligent, but funny, charming, witty, empathetic, a voracious reader and technically-saavy enough to reconfigure our Wi-Fi while Dylan was traveling and reset the password so we couldn't get on the Internet (THAT was a fun one).  He loves his cats and makes sure they are all taken care of multiple times a day.  He is kind and patient with Matthew and the love and adoration between the two warms my heart everyday.

He's a wonderful gift and I grow more in love with him every day.  He never ceases to amaze me.  Although he might just do that when we go to have the formal "talk" and he rolls his eyes and says, "Uh, Mom and Dylan? I learned all that stuff in my biology book when I was like 7".