Friday, February 19, 2010
And Then There's Sam
Sam is my oldest. Sam was my first. It's not that he's my favorite--I truly don't have a favorite and that's the truth--but he is the most like me. Of course, I hate myself--so in a way Sam is the opposite of my favorite. Anyway, he's 12. Our feet are the same size, which makes me feel like a petite, feminine mom with a strapping son. Even though I'm not. Sam is really great, interesting, thoughtful, reliable, and old enough to not want to be blogged about, probably. We don't always get what we want in life, do we son? Lesson done.I have learned so much from having a son because I never had brothers. Mostly I'm learning about scouting and the importance of precooking tin foil dinners but the other thing that is dawning on me is that I can NOT BELIEVE I was in love with 12-year-old boys when I was 12 and--more than that--I expected them to reciprocate. This notion horrifies me now. You mean, those boys I fantasized about marrying had just started to wear deodorant and still watched cartoons like, every day? It's so weird that every year I hoped to get a Valentine. I never did--it was disappointing then, but now I know 12-year-old boys just don't do that or think like that. They are completely oblivious. It would have made me feel better to know that. I'm sure there is someone--probably someone very nice--who is in love with Sam and thinks that maybe he will give her a valentine or ask her to dance. I hope she has brothers and understands but if she doesn't, here's what I would tell her: Don't take it personally.