Sun Times Column April 24

You know, as you can well imagine, there are very few things about boys that surprise me any longer. Their fascination with all bodily functions, their need to change the lyrics of every song into something slightly dirty, their knowledge of all things superhero. I really had the market cornered, in my mind. Even with my oldest son Callum nearing his teen years. I knew things were going to change just slightly, I knew he was going to get a little crankier, a little taller, a lot more interested in girls. But for the most part, things would probably remain the same, right? In fact we had a conversation about this at the end of last summer. We were driving back from the beach with the windows down and listening to the Beatles, and his man-boy feet (which remind me of a puppy, always two sizes bigger than where he is) were bare, propped up on the dashboard.
“You know, hon, in about a year, you’re going to start to think you hate me. And I just want you to know that it’s alright to feel like that for a while - we’ll get over it.”
“As if, Mom. I would never hate you.” We smiled at each other, supremely smug in our closeness.
And he doesn’t hate me. Not really. It’s just that - well, you know when your kids are small, and the worst thing in their world is when you’re angry at them? All you have to say is their name like a question and they almost instantly flush and say ‘sorry, Mom’. Now when I say ‘Cal-lum?’ in my best reproving voice he shrugs and says ‘What?’ He has even told me he’s angry with me sometimes. Like when I act goofy or silly or normal or breathe a little loud. I didn’t know he would ever really be angry with me.
There is this incredible remoteness with him sometimes, too. He’ll be leaning against the kitchen counter drinking his pulp-free orange juice and he is just so - gone from me. I can picture his future suddenly as clear as a bell, I see him as that handsome man in a crowded room, leaning against a bar with his open-necked shirt and his fancy watch (I always picture him as a fancy watch kind of guy), not talking to anyone. And some poor frazzled woman will keep walking by him thinking ‘Has he noticed me? Does he like my hair? I wonder if I should put on more perfume?’. I bet he’ll even have a lot of blond arm hair, which disturbs me even more for some reason. As for me - I am mostly in his peripheral vision these days, a sort of colourless shapeless entity who cooks his meals and gives him curfews and censors ‘Borat’. Sometimes I feel like I should put on a little makeup or fluff my hair a bit for him - what is it about a teenage son that makes you eminently conscious of your old sweats? Maybe even a little judged. Although if I tried to look nice, he would be furious with me for that as well.
He isn’t always so remote, though. He may be a teenager but he’s still - Cal. He is still wise beyond his years in a lot of ways, still makes me laugh until my sides hurt, will still cuddle in with me to watch a movie I’ve chosen as long as I’ve billed it a ‘romantic comedy’ (okay, so ‘The Notebook’ wasn’t really a romantic comedy, but he really liked it anyways.). And there’s a new facet to our relationship that is oddly satisfying. When your kids are younger it’s ALL about the shielding and monitoring. Sometimes it still is, and then it isn’t. Every once in a while I’ll make some sort of PG-13 little aside and he’ll put his arm around my shoulders and laugh. We talk about the future, have the whole ‘what do you want to do when you grow up?’ conversation with notes and facts, discussing universities and R.E.S.P’s. Although I do miss the days when his answer was ‘I want to be Spiderman’. We talk about girls - actually I talk about girls and he listens silently. But he does listen.
He makes me think of my favourite bridge, the one I cross on my walks almost every day. I’ve always looked out over my left shoulder at the great view, the willow trees and sunlight and groups of plump ducks drying on the shore. I love that view. But just the other day I crossed the street to check out the other side. It was a little bit the same, but a little bit different. I liked the old view a lot, but I could learn to like this one, I suppose. Maybe this view will turn into something even lovelier than before