spectrumom

Sam is 15.  At his well child check yesterday he got the HPV vaccine.  As he says "to protect me from throat cancer." Now, he doesn't know diddly about Michael Douglas (notice how I included a form of diddle in there, because I'm so mature) and he knows nothing about cunnilingus or fellatio.  And I think he might giggle himself to death if we mentioned labia and vagina.  And he gave me a LOOK when we were talking about nocturnal emissions and denied having any such thing emit from HIS penis.  (Of course, Mr. Big Ears in the back seat didn't miss a thing.  Weeks later while walking in Target the 7 year old expert pipes up "You know, mom, more than pee can come out of your penis!"  You don't say, buddy.) That is not to say he's not interested in sex.  He is.  And has been for years.  First, as an academic pursuit, when he went around doing an in-depth study of every one he knew(and several random acquaintances)  to see if they had...

 I see you over there. Across the aisle. In the next checkout.  Staring. At my kid.  At me.  Because I am my kid. Flesh of my flesh, bone of my bone.  I bore him for nine months. And birthed him after 23 hours of labor.  And now I am birthing him again. 12 years of birthing.   Teaching him to talk. To hear. To write. To read.  And he is still being born.  The essence of him was always there. Just like you know your baby in the womb.  Stubborn, persistent, cuddly, inquisitive.  But stuck behind a wall of not-words.   Behind a need of motion.  Motion that makes his body real to him. Motion and sounds that are so weird to other people. That are his way of being alive. Of being born.  That's what you are staring at. You are watching his birth.  It can be painful. But it's always miraculous.  I think he is crowning now.