Ready or Not, Here I Come!

It has long been knocking. While the rest of his world had opened their doors, it  stood and waited outside his.

Was it not just last year that he kept smelling those underarms in vain? Was it not too long ago his skin was perfect but for the sunburn? That his feet did not sweat? That he grew a scant quarter of an inch every few months? That  he could not be bothered by girls ?

But now teeny-weeny pimples are erupting in the  night.  And  underarms are screaming for attention. There is a vague smell to the feet at the end of the day.  And those oblivious  eyes are now stealing glances at a girl.

I have watched that growth chart with him month after month to see if it’s here. Today confirmed my suspicion. Ready or not, Puberty is coming. Much dreaded. Much anticipated.  IT has one foot in the door announcing its arrival  in the form of sarcasm and argumentativeness, confusion, forgetfulness and amnesia all covered up with  glandular secretions and smells. It has a retort to every comment I make on the dinner table or in the living room. It has a sarcastic barb for every intriguing  remark on TV.  It  seems to know it all and yet is  plagued with amnesia, forgetting to do homework and school work and suffering from an incredible lack of drive.

Still, it has one foot outside the door, with Blue Baby and the rest of the gang trailing behind.  Still, it walks around the house with Blue Baby in its arm, making it a bed when it goes away and kissing it goodbye.This THING still comes running in the night and jumping into our bed,  making sweet little noises and giving butterfly kisses.

And while IT has not totally taken him over, time is running out. He is still hairless in the vital parts. His voice is not cracking. He still watches Disney Channel sporadically and wrestles around with his old folks. This thing still hides at the sound of us coming up the stairs and covers itself up with blankets as if it cannot be seen.  It has not been prone to brooding and solitude and begs you to listen to Its stories and accounts of things read and seen. 

But the door to the room that he’s kept  open for years is now closed at night: a  sign that a bigger door will soon shut.

I still have time … Time is running out.

In my panic, in my dismay, in my ambivalence as a mom, all I ask of God is grace for the days ahead,

FOR READY OR NOT, HERE IT COMES!