Time

It's been a trying day for Brother and I. A battle of wills for sure. I feel like I have spent my entire day correcting and getting on to him. And you know what comes with that, don't you? Yup. My close, personal friend...Guilt.

I have a precious memory of my baby boy. It is one that I remember most vividly. He is five months old and we are at the grocery store. He is wearing a red henly shirt and his Osh Kosh overalls. He is riding in the infant seat, which I have setting on the grocery cart. We are in the produce department and a woman stops me to tell me how beautiful he is. I beam. She says "Boy, he is in love with his mommy!" and I look at him. And he is looking at me with eyes aglow and a smile that makes me melt. I will never forget that look. It was a time when all he needed was me. I was his world. I had the power to meet his every need. I could snuggle and kiss him endlessly and he loved it. I could hold him on my lap. There was no arguing, no power struggle.

Now he is tall and handsome and has ideas of his own. He is trying to separate, which I know is natural, but I'm not sure how to handle it. How much line do I give him when he tries to fly? How do I help him become independant, but respectful and mindful of others around him? How do I guide him on this road to manhood without completely screwing him up? I don't want to be firm and confrontational. I want to be sweet, fun and talk baby talk with him again. I want the days when everything I said was great and all I had to do was show up and he was happy. Babies I can do. I know how to make a baby happy. I feel completely unprepared and inadequate to handle a pre-adolescent boy.

And now, a poem. Cheesey? Yes. Sappy? Absolutely. Humor me, okay? I'm in pain here!!!

Take time to hold me on your lap,
To joke with me and make me laugh,
Take time, Mommy; this time will go so fast..

Take time to give me extra hugs,T
o teach me a nursery rhyme or song,
Take time, Mommy; I won't be little long..

Take time to tuck me into bed,
To read me that story you know by heart,
Take time, Mommy; soon these days will part..

Take time to exclaim over what I color,
To admire the things I make from clay,
Take time, Mommy; I'm growing up and away..

Take time to imagine or make-believe,
To play some childish, silly game,
Take time, Mommy; soon it won't be the same..

Take time to let me help you work,
To teach me the many things you know;
Take time, Mommy; enjoy me as I grow..

--Author Unknown