It is amazing to see my little boy asserting his independence. There was a lot of money on the chance that I wouldn’t let that happen. You see I am the quintessential over protective mother. Other than the fact that he had a hard start to life I am one of those people who does not believe that you have to teach your child to grow up the moment they land on the delivery bed. I am all for letting my child be a child for as long as he can be (and longer if it means I get extra time with him).
It turns out that all the over nurturing and all the over protectiveness in me cannot stop him from growing up. I see it happening and I can’t stop it.
It started when he told me that he no longer needs me to write him letters with his recess and lunch at school. I was mildly horrified but I could cope because, in truth finding a different way to say I love you to your son every single day, twice a day without actually spelling it out, is rather tricky.
Then it was the crossing of the roads. He didn’t want me to hold his hand, this has been a hard one for me to let go being the very anxious mum that I am. For a while we settled on me having my arm around him. He believed momentarily that this made him look more adult. Now I am allowed only to stand very close to him but make no actual physical contact on public roads. I am okay with this now as he is very responsible.
The freedom that he feels at being allowed to take his scooter and race down the streets is just amazing, worth letting him go just to see that huge smile take over his face. He positively beams with delight when I ask him if he wants to go to the shop for me.
The other day he told me that he is now old enough to stay in the house by himself because he can make his own toast. I’ve got to say I was a little bit taken aback that he considered my main input into being in the house with him was that I had the ability to make toast. Nevertheless I did leave him to walk around the block with the dog, and no bread was harmed (or even touched). He was so inflated with pride that he had grown about 3 cm by the time I got back 2 and a half minutes later.
But on Saturday all this growing up stuff stepped up a notch. And it went horribly wrong.
Little Pencil and I were strolling through the shops looking for some jeans. I bumped into a friend and started to chat and about 2 minutes later Little Pencil appeared at my side with the widest smile and an imploring face. He was bursting with news and was ridiculously happy. I followed him to find the source of this happiness and there in front of my eyes were the skinniest pair of jeans you have ever seen. I checked that we were still in the boy’s section. We were I checked that they were not shrunken pants. They weren’t. I checked to see that Little Pencil was being serious. He was.
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He told me that these are the jeans he wants.
I panicked.
He tried them on.
Now, as a little background let me tell you that Little Pencil weighs 19 kilograms. He is the thinnest person I have ever met. He wears size three undies, his waist is that small. But he is perfectly magnificent and looks particularly good in a pair of jeans that give the illusion of him having a bum and legs rather than twigs.
Skinny jeans are baggy on him, but they do not disguise the shape of his body. He looks like a stick with a head. A very happy, gorgeous smiling head.
He fell in love with the jeans, thought he looked “too cool for school”. I paid for them and he came home and posed the entire afternoon.
I cannot believe that my child is growing up, becoming such an independent and confident child, but mostly I cannot believe that he has such terrible fashion sense.
I am traumatised for you. I’d hire him a stylist stat. I’m still in the hand holding stage with Mr. Large, I’ll mourn the day he no longer wants to hold it.
OMG, your son sounds so gorgeous I want to eat him up with a spoon!
Loved this post. I felt pangs of sadness at his growing independence, so hard to loosen those apron strings, I know from recent experience.
My 3.5 has never been able to sleep without me lying down with him. Ever. Just last week asked for his dad to do it. The first night I was thrilled, I could raid the cupboard without fear of being caught stuffing my face with chocolate before dinner. Second night the same. Third night I kinda milled around his room, waiting for him to ask for me instead. He didn’t. Then I just got sad that my little boy was growing up.
However husband was quick to remind me that our 11 month old daughter absolutely cannot go to sleep without being being breastfed in my arms. She flat out refuses to sleep any other way.
So the cycle continues 🙂
I neglected to say that although he is a big deal by day – at night I still lie with him in bed:-)
The way you write about Little Pencil is just……so beautiful.
My advice re: the jeans. It’s a losing battle.
Confronting and losing.
I feel confronted. And a little lost xxx
Hi, great post! I may have missed this – but may I ask how old is your son? I am taking notes re toast making and walks around the block… argh!
Thanks for that xxx He is 9
Oooh the pain and pleasure of parenting.
The day your hand is not held – streets/shops/school is the day the umbilical cord actually feels cut…but no, wait there’s more (am experienced mother of boy who wore size 3 shorts in year 1. But not special boy like LP who arrived very early) when kisses in public are rejected 🙁
It’s too painful for me to tell you more because whilst independent toast making is a landmark YOU
must be strong for what else comes along Mummy Sweetness!!
But, but, one day it will all be WONDERFUL
because he will HUG & KISS you again (not hold hand) at around age 25!!
This is true as my heart was broken from son’s years
14 to 24…xxxx
Between the ages of 14 and 24 I will surround myself with puppies
Oh! I second what Mia said. Just… beautiful.
…and I second what KS says. Mainly because she is me.
Shh, I am calling the stylist 😉
This post reminded me- just for a second- of “We Need to talk about Kevin”. You know, how he always went around wearing clothes that were about three sizes too small, even in prison.
Not sure why I mentioned that. Kind of wish I hadn’t now.
(Gorgeous blog. Those last lines made me laugh and tear up all at once. xxx)
Oh my, it’s genetic! He has Mr. Pencil’s fashion sense to the tee. And while Mr. Pencil still wears his stove pipe jeans…he still can’t make toast. So you should be very proud of little pencil!
Would you believe that I once knew a grown man who had a t-shirt that said “chocolate fiend” on the front xxx
I just saw this response. For the record…I still want that shirt back, I know Mr. Pencil stole it.
He sounds like a real catch already! Should I fear for the poor girls LP may one day bring home to meet Mother? Do you have a questionnaire prepared? 😉
I do not have a questionnaire but I have a very intimidating stare that I have been perfecting 🙂
I am empathising.
Being the mum of Miss Big/Little, I am pleased beyond distraction when she makes herself a cup of tea and toast (and then delivers me one, carefully, filled to the brim and a wee bit too milky).
But as I watch her sigh, sup her tea with toast, while reading a book and wiping her hair from her eyes, I realise I’m watching the same set of movements she’ll have when she’s 80.
Gives me a happy/sad shiver.
That is simply beautiful
you are such a good mum lana. i love reading your posts.
Thanks Jenny xxx
Awwww, you know how to do good lump-in-the-throat posts!! xx
xxx to you !
I love this post. Your, ahem, protective parenting style makes me smile as it is a more exaggerated version of my own. So far, Mr6 is still happy to take direction on clothing (though there are some questionable colour combinations at times), but I can’t wait to see where it goes when he’s older. I suspect I won’t have too many problems – he’s the most conservative six-year-old ever. Mr3 on the other hand…