As a baby he was all Mama’s boy. I was a single mom and he was my world.

As he grew, he stayed that way. He listened to my musicals in the car with me.

Everything was shared, no secrets kept.

Over time, and with age, the world began to shift.

Sisters were born.

School got harder.

Life got busier.

He became a pre-teen.

The hugging slipped away.

The talking disappeared.

Sullenness crept in where sunshine had lived.

And then we had a teenager.

Over the past few years, the ever-changing relationship has left me at time joyous, befuddled, angry, and sad.

The need for independence, coupled with the distance already formed, has left some gaps in the relationship.

I don’t understand him, although I try.

He is a sensitive one, like I always was, and I find myself now understanding my dad’s frustration when I was that age.

There are ways Denver is just like me—and ways he is nothing like me.

I don’t know how to parent a teenager. I don’t know how to let go and hold tight. I don’t know how to keep his trust as he tests mine.

Yet, in the frustration and pain, there are moments.

Times we share laughter. Times we have a playful battle of wits (or wills).

There are some subjects we share an enjoyment of (raising a Geek when you’re one helps).

Some days I think I’m losing him and will never get him back.

Some days I worry I didn’t do a good enough job raising him.

But these days, as he’s getting a little older—a little closer to good-bye—we are starting to find that middle ground.

There are times I think he might actually like his parents (heaven forbid).

And so I think there is hope.

Just so long as he knows how proud we are of him (we are, so much).

So long as he knows how smart he is and how much potential he has.

Then I am happy, and think maybe I didn’t do such a bad job in raising him after all.

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Are you ready for the teen years?  I still have two kids to go through, and they’re girls. I don’t think I’m ready for that.

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Written for Things I can’t Say’s Pour Your Heart Out