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07 ill SEPARATION ANXIETY "We've had bad luck with our kids—they've all grown up." —Christopher Morley Technically speaking, my son Justice is six years old, but for all the growing up he has done lately, I may as well be living with a teenager. I was so looking forward to the holiday break, now long gone, so that I would have unlimited amounts of time to catch up on all the Justice kissing, squeez ing, pinching and tickling that I just don't get enough of during the hectic days of never-end ing school and work demands. He put the kibosh on that idea early in the week, though, when during a too-long embrace, he brusquely shoved me back. "Mom," he said, wiping my saliva off of his face, "You treat me like a little kid. Dad treats me like a man." With that statement, he turned on his heels and headed to the computer for some testosterone-filled game time, leaving me to feebly mutter, "Do not." "Well, do you treat him like a little kid?" several friends asked when I related this story. Of course I do! He IS a little kid! He's six, not 16! And let me say this, when I signed up to do this whole mothering thing nobody told me the baby would grow up. Yes, I know that people grow up. I mean, I did it. I watched my sister do it. I've watched other people's kids do it. But MY baby? Why would MY baby grow up? Even as I made plans for college savings and strategic moves to get into a "better" school system when Justice could barely toddle, I still didn't think of him as capable of becoming an older kid. Now my walking, life-sized calendar of a son reminds me every day, with each pair of pants that grows shorter and a vocabulary that grows longer, that time is fleeting. He is growing up, but I often still feel like the mother of baby Justice, not grow ing-up Justice. This bigger kid has ever, more com plexities to navigate and moods to figure out than the infant I brought home. Overwhelming as it was at the time, new parenthood seems much less daunt ing now. I mean, then it was either feed me, burp me, or rock me. Now I don't know if his distance means something is bothering him, or if it's just a new phase amongst dozens. I don't know if he won't tell me what happened at school that day because nothing memorable occurred, or because something tragic happened that will scar him for life, but I won't know about it until I read it in his bestseller or see it on his therapy bill. When he does talk to me, the stories are often incredibly grandiose, and I try to grasp onto the one grain of reality that will give me some connection into his little world. Changing poopy diapers was easier. And by the way, when I was changing diapers and I used to read that that was the easy stuff, I wanted to take said reading material and throw it right back in the writer's face. But now I can say, I feel you. Yes, life is becoming more complicated because my child is be coming more complicated. He is now capable of being embarrassed by me, feeling ashamed of certain behaviors, even of the occa sional show of empathy. He is also acutely aware of any possible forthcoming degradation, which is completely intolerable in his opinion. On a recent trip through the bank drive-thru, as I reached for my cash out of the little metal drawer. Justice spouted from the back seat, "I hope they didn't give me a lollipop. If they did, that would be so humiliating!" I think I teared up a little. I could remember a day when leaving the bank without a lollipop would mean a four-star meltdown. Now, well, that's baby stuff. It is becoming more and more clear that not only is my child growing up, and away, but he is also most certainly a boy, and this creates the dreaded mother-son gender gap. I don't like to play "Guitar Hero," computer games or Yu-Gi-Oh cards. I prefer classic rock to the "cool and heavy" music Justice has become interested in. I can build a fort and catch a frog with the best of them, but most of my attempts at mother-led quality time are deemed "lame." Justice does not like to paint, clean or sit quietly with a book. He will still let me read to him at night, but at the moment it pains me to say he has entered a "books are uncool" phase. (It better be a phase, anyway.) At the crux of this gender gap is what I have be gun to affectionately refer to as "The Hot Girl Issue." Justice's dad does, indeed, treat him like a man, so much so that on a recent sojourn to the grocery store, my small son returned clutching a Maxim mag azine proudly in his sweaty little hands. For those of you not familiar with the publication, it is kind of a PG version of Playboy. The women aren't naked, but they don't leave much to the imagination. I didn't think Maxim was particularly appropri ate for a six year old, which I made clear to the spouse, but while we were sparring about it ("It's just bodies!" "Don't teach him to objectify wom en!''), Justice was ripping out his favorites to hang on his bedroom wall. Now whenever we are going to have a playdate, I run up to his room and take down his "hot girls," and as soon as company is gone, he puts them right back up. I don't think I would be having this dilemma with a daughter. At this point, I am feeling a little used. I mean, I've done so much for the kid. All the waking up at night, the constant nursing, the soothing, the singing, the worrying: making sure each moment of his life was filled with just the right combination of free play and intellectual stimulation. I had no idea he was going to charm his way into my heart and then toss me aside. The only solution is to accept that I have to let him go a little bit at a time, but he will always be my little man. And I guess making an effort to bridge the gap of our interests wouldn't hurt, either. I can learn to rock out on the "Guitar Hero," and I suppose I'll be fine as long as he lets me leave love notes in his lunches. The "Hot Girl Issue" may remain heated for some time, but I'm going to try to wean him down from Maxim to Cosmo, then maybe Woman's Day. Maybe we will eventually end up with all of our hot girls coming from the pages of National Geographic Kids. A hip mamma can dream. Elizabeth Deroshia % # W W W W ^ ^ ;Ackes Away ^ massage therapy Need Your fa\ots Undone? Call AchesTAway! -* Specializing in Julia Fred«rick RN, CMT, NMT —L., . Nationally Cwtifiad TWopist Ac- Therapeutic ^ Massage Therapy. 706-353-6222 * 585 RtMorch Driv*. Suita 8, AJh«u, GA 30605 ^7 ft* ff ff ft ft ft ft ft rue TUjp nmaiatn sunouiitH HUNGER CAN BE A BEAST CalM Ike Mighty least! NEWS & FEATURES I ARTS & EVENTS I MOVIES I MUSIC I COMICS & ADVICE I CLASSIFIEDS FEBRUARY 7,2007 • FLAGP0LE.COM 13