Okay, so I've got two more posts (including this one) looming on my to do list before the clock strikes midnight on New Year's Eve.
For the last few days I've contemplated writing about my youngest son, Nicolas, and how he just turned 15 a few days ago. There is no doubt about it, my baby is a young man.
For the last few months he's grown at least three inches, built muscle, grew facial hair, and made me feel like I've hit a new phase in my life. It's bad enough that his older brother, at only 19 years old, is sporting a full beard, mustache, and overgrown hair. (He refuses to shave and insists that his girlfriend loves him even if he looks like a mountain man.)
The influence of his older brother, while gracing us with his presence while on college semester break, is palpable. Now, Nicolas is dead-set on growing his sideburns and his mini-goatee. Nicolas did allow me to shave his mustache, however. This is what a mom of teenage boys goes through.
Who would have thought that I'd be mustering ways to combat a closed bedroom door so as to avoid death by contained body odor?
I never anticipated negotiating favors to entice one of my sons to groom his appearance. But, sadly, it has come down to these drastic tactics. But, even more tragic, nothing has worked. I feel like a warden in a prison where each prisoner has the key to their cell and free-range of the entire prison yard. Sometimes it feels like they are dangling the key, menacingly, in front of my face and tormenting me with my own threats.
Once again I realize that 2011 has been a year to learn to let go, trust that I've done the best possible job as a parent, and let my kids become responsible adults. So much growth can become challenging and exhausting.
But, in the end, I have a sense of pride in myself and my sons. They have blessed my life in more ways than they could fathom!