Turning Eleventy-Teen

“You can understand and relate to most people better if you look at them – no matter how old or impressive they may be – as if they are children. For most of us never really grow up or mature all that much – we simply grow taller. O, to be sure, we laugh less and play less and wear uncomfortable disguises like adults, but beneath the costume is the child we always are, whose needs are simple, whose daily life is still best described by fairy tales.” — Leo Rosten

My oldest son’s 11th birthday is this week.  Not to point out the obvious, but I am simply not old enough to have an eleven year old.  It’s not possible.  I’ve done the math. 

As I always do on my kids’ birthdays, I remember their births, the day they were born.  This always shocks me.  It doesn’t feel as if 11 years have passed.

When my water broke 7 weeks before my due date, I didn’t even realize it was 7 weeks before my due date.  I wasn’t keeping track of the weeks at all.  People always asked how many weeks pregnant I was and I always guessed or just told them my due date.  That’s how clueless I was.  We had only attended two sessions of our prenatal classes.

I won’t go into all the gory details of my labor and delivery but suffice it to say that he was born with no problems, a little over 6 weeks early, and weighed 5 pounds, 11 ounces.  He spent one night in the NICU for observation and then was handed over to us (like we knew what to do with him) pronounced healthy, with none of the possible problems they had warned us about with preemies. 

He was the sweetest baby.  He was so tiny and his cry was more like a little squeak.  He let anyone hold him and was even-tempered, right from the beginning.

At three weeks old, we almost lost him when he had to have surgery for a birth defect called pyloric stenosis.  He didn’t react well to the anesthesia and it was touch and go for a day but he recovered from that just fine too.

Now, that little guy is turning eleven?!  I borrowed the term “eleventy-teen” from a friend of mine who referred to her son as that age when he was eleven.  This is the age when the early signs of becoming a teenager begin to rear their ugly heads.

So far, besides the sex education lesson he gave us at dinner one night, the fact that he calls me “Mom” in public (I still prefer Mommy, as long as I can get away with it), and there are to be no hugs in public under any circumstances, and he really, really needs a cell phone, he’s still closer to childlike than to teen-like. 

I just don’t want him to grow up so fast, if at all.  I don’t want him to lose the enthusiasm he has for everything from magic tricks to special effects in movies to fireworks.  I love that he’s excited and proud of himself for being placed in an advanced math class next year and even that he’s nervous about starting middle school (so am I!).  I don’t want other kids, life in general, or God forbid, me or his dad, to cause him to laugh less, play less or put on uncomfortable adult disguises.   And I hope he has a happy 11th birthday. 

Thanks for stopping by!

Related Reading:

Growing Up (Signet)

The Everything Kids' Science Experiments Book: Boil Ice, Float Water, Measure Gravity-Challenge the World Around You! (Everything Kids Series)

Praying the Scriptures for Your Teenagers: Discover How to Pray God's Will for Their Lives

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