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Single Mom Slice Of Life:
Watching Him Grow.. My Date With My Teen

 

Something odd is happening.  I’m not 100% certain what it is, but in one of those rare occasions when my teenager pulls his head out of his… um… own world… and joins the rest of the family, amazing things happen.

After hearing that I had wanted to go to a vintage market, and knowing that my love of antiques far exceeds my intense dislike for crowds of people and shopping in general, Nick offered to go with me to this event.  At this point, I would like to remind you that it was on a Saturday.  He is 17.  It would require a 45-minute car ride one way, and in one of those Christmas (in April) miracles that stun all of mankind, he was awake before 7 a.m., showered, dressed, with a smile, a laugh, and a sense of adventure that left me no choice but to follow.

It started as every great road trip should; the sudden reminder that we were nearly out of gas, a suspiciously low looking tire, a particularly painful withdrawal from the ATM, a quick trip through the drive through (where I was informed that having to order from Jack in the Box without having time to look over the menu is like defusing a bomb, never mind the fact that I had no idea my 17-year-old ran around town defusing bombs to know what it’s like but you get the point).  Anyway, after a half an hour of errands we were finally on the way.

The drive into Scottsdale involved butchering many songs, a debate over which was the best Bee Gee, my questioning why today’s music has to be so loud and obnoxious (don’t – say – a – word), a mutual chewing out of every car that drove ten miles under the speed limit in the fast lane, and a slight unexpected side trip that involved a tour of the immediate area around the event center (we were NOT lost) and laughter the entire way.

The event itself was just as one would expect it to be.  It was dusty, full of people, and in early summer in Arizona, hot and stuffy.  Yet, when I stopped suddenly, causing my kid to walk into me, which then pushed me into the elderly lady in front of me (yes, things like this really do happen in my life), my kid sighed and asked “which one of the old dirty things” was making me drool.  I pointed at the 1935 Remington typewriter, and after wiping the drool from my lip, he convinced me to walk around, find even older stuff I’ll never use and if it was still there when we were done, we could buy it then.

Not only was it still there, but someone else was eyeing it.  I pouted, and was ready to retreat when my kid yet again shocked me.  He held my arm to keep me still and waited until they walked away.  Sounding like the man he is becoming, he not only found out that it was still available, but negotiated the price down ten dollars and then carried it to the car.

Wendy Typewriter

While the drive to the event was full of fun, the two hour drive home – yes, we got lost again, stop judging – was filled with serious discussion.  We talked about life, love, self-image, hopes, dreams, dislikes, and fears.  With yet another startling revelation, I realized there is a lot of maturity hiding in my kid; he just does an EXCELLENT job of keeping it hidden.

I already have a deep sense of buyer’s remorse when I look at my rapidly depleting bank statement.  I will now always relate the defusing bombs with 99 cent tacos and curly fries.  I know that when I grow old, he is willing to put me in a home that puts cinnamon in their applesauce.  But THE memory of the day for me will always be that when I wasn’t willing to fight for myself, my kid was, and did.

It’s one more way I’m reminded that this is his world now, I’m just visiting.

More From GEM:

Single Mom Slice Of Life: My Dating Dilemmas!

The GEM Debate: Teachers Texting Teens: Too Much?

Guest Posting: 5 Things I Love About My Mom!

Wendy-Syler-pic-11-150x150Wendy Syler Woodward has been a single parent since 2002, with two boys ages 13 and 18.  Originally from southern California, Wendy moved her family to Phoenix where she manages a law firm for work, writes for fun, and has returned to college for her B.A.  Follow her on Twitter @WendySyler.