Friday Night Thoughts

I don't remember getting old. I certainly don't remember when I became embarrassing or increasingly stupid. As I sit here on a Friday night waiting for Son #2 to complete his rounds of partying for the evening, I find myself sitting on Facebook playing Bejeweled for hours killing time for the late night pick up. I began contemplating what happens to mothers as they age and trying to figure out exactly what stage of life I have entered and what my place is now.

I look in the mirror and I look the same. I hear my voice. Still sounds like me. I still pick out the same style of clothes and wear the same shade of lipstick that I have for the past 20 years. My ipod is full of the same ole' tunes I've loved for decades. I still prefer the same candy bar since I was in 5th grade. Yup. It's still me.

Yet tonight, I put on my new dress and drove my son to his 8th grade farewell dance. Well, first to the "pre-party". Parents were invited to stay and take pictures, but according to my son - this clearly wasn't intended for me. Maybe the other cooler moms and dads. He did let me get out and take a few quick pictures with his buddies. Then it happened. That car pulled up behind me. The doors opened. And they began to exit the car...

Girls. Girls in short dresses and high heels. Very tanned skin and sparkly eyes covered in shadow and lips glistening with pink. Giggling. Suddenly, the group of boys I was taking pictures of - like mindless drones began to follow right after the girls - walking out of the picturesque background that we had chosen when I held up my Kodak and looked proudly through my viewfinder. I shout to my son, "Wait! I want a picture of you." Through gritted teeth and forced patience he responds, "Mom, really are you serious?"

So, I concede. He catches up with his friends and I return to my car. I check my digital camera to realize I only have one picture. The picture I managed to capture was the one of my son's face the moment the girls arrived behind me. Hmm. I study the picture. Hmm. I zoom into his face. His posture. His expression. Forever captured on that camera is a moment that Mom no longer had a starring role in her son's life. That's a hard thing for a Mommy.

Now, granted he hasn't called me that in a long time...but I kept wanting to believe that little boy who called me Mommy was still in there somewhere. I look at the image again. Nope, he is just not there. What I see is a handsome young man.

So I return home. Click. Click. Click. Bejeweled again. Funny how your mind can pretend to focus on matching those colors and shapes. Meanwhile I watch the clock and think, "Well, if he has become a handsome young man, what have I become?" Am I boring? Am I embarrassing? Am I sad? Do I miss my baby boy's sloppy, sticky Popsicle kisses? Do I miss Friday nights when he was freshly bathed with his damp hair climbing into my lap with his blanket to watch the latest Disney movie? Yes. Heavy sigh...

I haven't changed. It's still me. I'm not boring. I'm reliable. I'm not embarrassing. I'm secretly admired. I'm not stupid. I'm just wiser than he realizes right now. Mom's are the constant. Children are the variable. I'll save those memories of my baby boy to tell his children one day.

As far as that picture? I thought about deleting it. But I think I'll file that one away too. Behind the Popsicle kisses. Because it's just the next stage. It's my job to keep track of his life story as he writes it. Right now he may not have me casted in a starring role, so I'll need to be content to be his biggest fan until he starts the next chapter. Maybe then I'll have a bigger part again.