I'm sure you have all seen the television show The Wonder Years. If you haven't, you really should. It is an excellent show and I would continue to campaign its virtues, but I think the link has pretty much summed it up for me. And my blog isn't about television shows, it's about Cay's Place - my place. Which, if I do say so myself, is a pretty cool place to be. There's quiche, cookies, cocktails, crafts, and lots and lots of books. Oh, and there's the Bug. He's the best part of the whole experience. Only, my Bug is growing up. I know, of course he is. He can't stay young and innocent, wide-eyed forever. And I really don't expect him to. It's just that this stage is a little tougher than when he stopped using a sippy cup. It's a tougher age than when he started to ride his bike to school on his own. It's even tougher than the first day of school. I mean I cried and everything when I dropped him off at class for kindergarten. I was a total sissy. Of course I didn't let him see me do this. It was completely on the down low. Gotta keep the sissy-ness to myself, after all.

But this stage... Now this stage is what I call the "Wonder Years" stage. This is the beginning of the end of his childhood, essentially. Maybe I'm being a bit dramatic here or maybe it's not dramatic enough. Because see, soon he will be a teenager. Soon he will not need his mother as much. And this last statement is true even more so because I have raised him to be so independent. Not only does he get his own water, but I have taught him a little bit of cooking. In fact, and here I go bragging a bit, the other day, he made scrambled eggs for me and served me breakfast in bed. And he's only 12! I swear, he had good grades, his room was clean - well, as good as it gets, there was nothing amiss. It was just because he loves me. What a doll, eh?

But I digress... Back to explaining my... my... well, for lack of a better word, my woe. I'm not upset about my child growing up. I'm proud of that. In fact, I couldn't be happier or more proud. He's an amazing, fun, sweet, and extremely smart individual. What it is is this: I'm sad that there's an end coming to his childhood. I'm going to miss the "kid". And, while I know it's going to be just as sweet to watch this new phase of life with the directional decisions that will affect his life with more depth then the kiddy choices of all blue or all black legos for the ultra-mega space ship, I still feel this feeling of loss. I'm going to miss the cuddles, the kisses, the need. I'm going to miss the hand holding just to be close, the unquestioned trust, the soft spot just above the upper lip that I would pet with my index finger, saying, "Gimmie the lip! Gimmie the lip!.. ahh, the lip!" I can't pet that lip anymore. Two reasons: one, it embarrasses him (of course. If you didn't catch it before he's 12. Everything I do embarrasses him and, don't tell him, but often times I do it on purpose. Hey, I have to get my kicks somehow, right?) and two, in a year or two stubble is going to grow out of that spot. It won't be as fun then. See, it's all of these little things that I'm going to miss. Mostly, though, it's the need that I've been fulfilling all these years and that sense of identity. I'm a mom. I wash clothes, make lunches, organize schedules, buy a lot of bandaides (I mean a lot!), sacrifice my desire for diet soda so that the child is not tempted to drink it all and then act as though there was no way he could have consumed it all even though I did not have one drop and all of the soda is gone. Frankly put, I'm not educated on how to not be the need, how to not fulfill a need. I've been doing this since I was 20. And, although I am trying, facing the fact that one day he won't need me at all is a bit bitter on my heart. That is, until the next time I decide to make a chocolate cake and find a finger groove in the icing where the cake meets the pan. Yeah, I'm sure I'll be looking forward to living alone at that time. Meanwhile, I'll continue to steal bear hugs and kiss his cheeks with lipstick - in public, just so he knows exactly how much I need my Bug, even if it is just to embarrass him with how much I adore him.