The teenager and I have been enjoying some new things together. He’s older so he can get into a few more nearly-adult things so our world is expanding beyond sports.
For instance, we are watching more TV together. He may not admit it to his peers, but he’s a total Gleek. He laughs and sings along as much as I do. And I wouldn’t say that he *cries*, but I did get a glimpse of his face during the scene when Rachel had eggs thrown on her by Vocal Adrenaline and specifically by Jesse and I could tell he was pretty upset. Certainly horrified and feeling badly for Rachel. When they showed scenes from next week’s season finale, I said “too bad you will be at your dads & will have wait to see it on Wednesday after school on my DVR” (because I am just such a sweet & supportive mom like that to throw it in his face that he will have to wait a day longer than me :-)) He says “No. NO! You have to *promise* to NOT watch it on Tuesday and to WAIT until YOU get home from WORK to watch it with me!” I smiled sweetly and said “Sure, oh oh, yes, of course, SUUURE.” with my fingers crossed behind my back. As if.
Then there’s our Wednesday night workouts. Once wrestling was over I started bringing him with me to the circuit training classes. The trainer has had fun with him and makes sure he takes it easy with the weights. The other members of the group are very awesome and also rag him as much as possible since he kinda likes to show off how easily a 13 year old body can tackle some of the exercises. I mostly love that HE seems to enjoy it and is totally fine going to work out with mom.
I know I’ve mentioned this before along with the songs we love to sing together in the car as we move around town.
The point is – so far, I am not the typical teenage source of complete humiliation that parents often become. He’ll be 14 in August and I consider this a pretty rare treat.
Last night he was reading twitter over my shoulder on my phone because we were trying to figure out how the heck the Padres had ended up winning 5-1 given that they were down 1-0 in the 9th inning just as we headed into our workout. Of course my twit stream includes folks posting on all sorts of topics and we scrolled by one from one of the White House reporters talking about Paul McCartney being honored last night. He says “Who is Paul McCartney?”
I’ll pause while you do as I did and pick yourself up off of the floor.
I know, I know..I’m a horribly negligent mom.
So, I explained and then we continued reading. Another post about Paul singing “Michelle” to Mrs Obama and POTUS singing along at the “I love you, I love you, I love you” part. Which of course got me a teensy bit verklempt. He looks confused again and so, what do I do? Well, what anyone would do in that situation of course. I sang the song!!
I’m about two lines into it and I notice he has this *horrified* look on his face. ‘What?” I ask.
“Let us NEVER speak of this again, ok?”
And that, my friends, is the moment that I apparently jumped the shark.