Today is my son’s birthday. Shh… Don’t tell him I’m writing about him. He’ll be embarrassed and say bad things about me. He thinks the whole blog thing is so lame anyway. And mothers have big mouths. But hey, I’m just doing my job right? Why do we have children if not to have someone to embarrass just like our parents embarrassed us? Like telling you that when he was little he cried every time someone sang “happy birthday”. Or…okay…I still want him to speak to me after this, so I’d better quit.
Robert is a great guy, most of the time. He’s smart, funny, and kind. I love to talk with him about current events, movies, politics, history. It’s that other stuff- personal stuff- that we have trouble discussing. He just doesn’t listen to his Mom as much as he should. After all, I give good advice! But he’s a guy. I should know from growing up with four of them that they’re “different”. Guys have their own way of doing things.
He wasn’t always averse to listening to me. He was a good child and hardly ever got into any serious trouble. But he could be stubborn and he certainly had his own ideas. He cut his thumb with his dad’s razor and managed to hide it from me for quite some time before the bleeding got out of his control. He once started walking home from school, even though we lived miles away, because he simply didn’t want to ride the bus. (He called us from a pay phone when he got tired.) He drove his teachers crazy with his ability to impress them and annoy them at the same time. He once wrote a term paper on “Why I Shouldn’t Have to Write a Term Paper”.
Robert was destined to be a little spoiled. Last child. Two older sisters. Grandmother next door. He was a cute kid with wild curly hair. Older women in our church loved to pat his curls and tell him how cute he was. He loved race cars and animals and stories. He was happy and agreeable. But I don’t think he was ever too spoiled. He turned out to be one of the good guys and I’m proud of him. He has good friends and a good job and a small apartment in the city. He says I’ll never have a daughter-in-law or one of his grandchildren. That’s not the life for him. He’s stubborn, but we’ll see. A good woman, the right woman, might change his mind. Enough. If I write too much he really will say bad things about me.
Don’t cry…I’m not singing. Love, Mom