This morning, my son Alex burst into my bedroom, brimming with excitement as he showcased the telescope and binoculars he crafted from paper, tape, and staples. “Can I take these with me when Max and I visit Grandpa today? I want him to see!” he exclaimed.
“Absolutely! I’m sure he’ll be thrilled,” I replied.
“Mom, they’re not real, you know,” he laughed, his joy radiating off him.
“I’m aware,” I chuckled back, sharing in the moment.
“Can I have a big hug?” he asked, jumping into my arms and wrapping his slender arms around my neck. He planted a kiss on my cheek, and I returned the gesture. His skin is still so soft, a stark contrast to his 17-year-old brother Jake, who has a scruffy beard now. Jake rarely kisses me on the cheek anymore; he prefers pecking the top of my head since he towers over me by at least five inches.
Alex remains the only one in the family shorter than me, and I cherish it. I adore being 10 years old and aim to soak in every moment before he turns 11, which will usher in middle school, a few pimples, and possibly braces.
With only a few weeks left in the realm of 10, I realize this is the final time I will experience this with my youngest. The changes are happening almost hourly. One minute he’s hugging me and inquiring about his baby days, and the next he’s lamenting about being too young to drive or shave.
I love 10 because, despite his growing independence, he still embodies the essence of childhood. He needs reminders (often a million of them) to brush his teeth and shower, but I no longer have to supervise him in the bathroom, ready to intervene with shampoo mishaps.
Alex still thinks I’m cool and smart; he approaches me with questions and problems, trusting my ability to guide him. When we go to the library or grab pizza, he occasionally lets me hold his hand.
He doesn’t require me to wait with him at the bus stop each morning, but he always welcomes me when I do. Given that I have two teenagers, this is a boost for my self-esteem. He hasn’t mastered the eye roll like his older siblings yet.
But I know that day is coming.
It’s a cliché to say that time flies, but it truly does.
Just the other night at dinner, we were discussing the latest movies and sharing stories from our day. They seemed so grown-up—almost too grown-up. I couldn’t take it any longer. If I couldn’t halt their aging, I could at least act a bit younger myself.
I playfully threw a spitball at Jake, who laughed and tossed it back. Alex looked up and said, “Mom, this isn’t how we act at the table. How many times have we discussed this?” Then he took a sip of iced tea and gargled it, sparking laughter all around. As we cleared the table, his long, slender arms wrapped around me unexpectedly. “I love you, Mom,” he said.
Yes, I’m going to miss 10.
If you’re curious about family dynamics during pregnancy, this excellent resource from the National Institute of Child Health and Human Development covers various topics related to pregnancy and home insemination. For those interested in home insemination kits, you might want to check out this guide from Make A Mom to ensure you have everything you need.
Summary
As Alex approaches his 11th birthday, I reflect on the joys and bittersweet moments of his childhood at 10. His growing independence is evident, yet he still seeks my affection and guidance. Time may fly, but I cherish each hug, laugh, and innocent moment we share.