Your cart is currently empty!
Enjoying Unexpected Moments with My Tween
“Mom, we’ve got a situation,” my newly minted 12-year-old, Max, announces as he flops down on the couch, shattering my rare moment of peace while I’m engrossed in a book. This better be worth it.
I glance up at his messy hair, basketball camp grime clinging to his clothes, and the sheen of sweat and sunblock on his face. “Is it that you really, really need a shower?”
“Come on, Mom,” he replies with a goofy grin. “Nope, I’m just bored.”
Well, that’s a revelation.
“Should I bring up the shower again?” I ask, half-joking.
“Later,” he says, distractedly twisting a lock of hair between his fingers.
Ah, my sweet boy is exhausted. That simple habit immediately tugs at my heartstrings and whisks me back a decade. I can picture him in his crib, fingers twirling in his hair, or at nursery school, dozing on the bus after a long day. I see him countless times—eyes heavy, fingers dancing.
Over the years, I’ve nagged him to stop because it knotted his hair, but it seems growing up has made that habit fade away. I had almost forgotten this little cue that signaled it was bedtime. It’s so precious.
I smile, grateful for this interruption that allows me to connect with him. My husband and middle son are off at a baseball game, and I opted to stay home with my other boys, who have been out nearly every night. These moments of quiet are rare; life is usually a whirlwind.
“So, how was camp?” I venture, even though I’d already asked earlier and got the typical blank stare followed by a half-hearted “fine.” But now he opens up, sharing stories about his day, his birthday, and his last baseball game—all while twirling his hair.
I soak it all in before gently saying, “You look tired, buddy.”
“There’s a situation,” he continues, propping his feet onto my lap. “I need a snack.”
Even through his socks, I catch a whiff. “Oh, we definitely have a situation here,” I agree, playfully pushing his feet off. “Go take a shower.” He slowly rises, then pauses to lean down for a hug—warm, greasy, and maybe a bit stinky.
I watch him shuffle away, his preteen frame so different from that little boy in the crib, yet a sliver of baby remains. With each milestone, this transition to teenager feels bittersweet. I love seeing him grow in so many ways, yet with every inch gained, I lose another piece of my baby.
As I hear the shower turn on upstairs, I know he’ll wash up and retreat to his room to either read or mess around on his phone. He’s becoming more independent these days—friends, school, sports…life. Setting my book aside, I get up to slice him an apple, peeling it just the way he likes.
It’s not a problem at all.
This article was originally published on July 17, 2016. For more insights on parenting, explore our blog! If you’re curious about home insemination, check out this excellent resource. And for more tips on boosting fertility, check out this site.
Summary
In this heartfelt piece, Jenna Morrison reflects on a tender moment with her 12-year-old son, Max, as he interrupts her rare quiet time to share his boredom and need for a snack. Through their interaction, she reminisces about his childhood habits, appreciates his growth, and embraces the bittersweet nature of parenting as he transitions into adolescence.