|English: YMCA logo (international and USA) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)|
Every night he returns from the Y and talks me through his improvement. 5 pull ups, then 10, 12, today 20! "I can do 30 minutes on the treadmill now!" He has biceps all of the sudden and a two pack. I am stunned at the quick progress and physical changes and yes, tremendously jealous. Why doesn't my weight lifting produce such easy results? Is there such thing as a negative metabolism rate? Anyway, my child, just weeks away from his 16th birthday, is looking more like a man.
The kicker. He comes home yesterday after getting a haircut. The thick sweep of hair was gone. In it's place was a near buzz cut with just enough extra on top to style and look a little daring. I couldn't help myself. I saw him and said, "You look hot! You're like a model." I know that probably wasn't the best mom reaction but damn if it wasn't true. All of the pieces are starting to fall into place. The muscles and haircut are forcing the reality down my throat - my boy is growing up. I'm in awe that he is a part of me. Every day he's looking and acting more like his own person, borderline foreign to me. I've always known that he was of course. Adolescence is just so intense (and not just for the teens). It's like seeing the color red in all it's beauty and then panning out and seeing that it's not a swatch of red but a full bouquet of roses. A gorgeous, cut, bouquet.