My 11-Year-Old Wants It All. I Wish He’d Slow Down

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My 11-year-old son, Liam, is sprawled out on the couch, a plate of tater tots perched on his knees. He’s donned a faded hoodie from his favorite sports team, the one he bought with his allowance after their big championship win. As he laughs at the antics of a character on his go-to show, he absentmindedly pets the dog.

Nearby, his 9-year-old brother, Ethan, is sprawled out on the dog bed, chuckling at different jokes, blissfully unaware of the world of teenage humor that Liam is just starting to explore.

Here we are, caught in a chaotic middle ground. I’m 35, still feeling like the version of myself I was at 18, trying to readjust my life after moving back to the town where my husband and I grew up. Liam is on the cusp of teenagehood, caught between wanting to be a kid and craving more independence. Our interactions have become a series of clumsy negotiations.

“Mom! Mom!” he calls, breaking my concentration as I juggle deadlines and help with Ethan’s school project.

“What? Is it urgent?”

“This new computer I want is only—”

“No.” I’m so over this conversation. It’s either a new computer or an iPhone, and the list of his demands grows longer daily. He seems unaware of how fortunate he is.

After losing his computer privileges for chatting with strangers online—who knows where they were from—Liam is now frustrated. At a local restaurant, he refuses to order from the kids’ menu but ends up wasting half of his burrito. He won’t bring leftovers to school because he doesn’t want to be teased about bringing a brown bag lunch. I find myself rolling my eyes, a habit we both seem to share these days.

Those moments of genuine connection we once enjoyed when he was younger have become rare. Back then, a stack of books could easily draw him in. Ethan, on the other hand, still loves cuddling up for storytime, while Liam often retreats to his room with his own reading material.

One day, while waiting for Ethan to finish swim practice, I’m listening to a comedy podcast that has been my solace since the move. Liam is reading nearby, and I know he loves U2, so I pull out my headphones and share the audio. We both end up laughing at the ridiculousness of a game involving snippets of songs. Our laughter rings out, a fleeting moment of shared joy.

Middle school is just around the corner, and Liam is buzzing with excitement after touring a specialized STEM school. He dreams of app development and video production. We know he’s intelligent but has a tendency to be lazy. His fourth-grade teacher suggested the STEM school, and now we’re both anxious about whether he’ll put in the effort needed to gain admission.

On Halloween, he initially refuses to dress up but changes his mind just in time to tag along with his brother. He throws on his hoodie and slaps on some eyeliner to represent his favorite team. It’s a lazy costume, but it’s all in good fun.

When he gets accepted into the STEM school, we celebrate with sushi, and for a moment, he seems to stand a little taller. But then reality sets in. He struggles in History and half-heartedly completes his chores. He has a tendency to push boundaries with his brother and even tries to wear the same shirt for three days straight. Yet, he shows kindness by helping his little cousin with Legos and even cooks dinner for the family.

As spring track season begins, I learn the coaches want parental involvement, but Liam insists I stay away. Naturally, I show up anyway. Watching him run, I realize he’s got speed and grace I hadn’t noticed before. Later, he surprises me by asking for a hug, a rare moment of affection that I cherish.

As a U2 song plays, I’m reminded of the lyrics: “Baby slow down. The end is not as fun as the start.” It strikes a chord with me; I wish he could slow down and savor these in-between moments.

Parenting a nearly-teenager is a delicate dance of wanting to hold on while letting go, a place where I often feel lost. But I try to embrace this awkward and beautiful phase, the bittersweet middle ground of parenting.

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Summary

This article reflects on the challenges of parenting an 11-year-old caught between childhood and adolescence. It explores the humorous yet poignant moments shared between a mother and her son as they navigate the complexities of growing up. The author expresses a desire for her son to savor his youthful years amidst the rush toward independence and responsibility.