As I sit here late on this Sunday evening, muscles I didn't even know I had are protesting the fact that they had to work all weekend long. And the ones I DID know I had are not-so-gently reminding me that I have broken my promise to them not to ever over-exert them. And lest you start thinking I've gone and done something positive like exercise (evil, evil word!!), let me tell you I've spent all weekend getting a vacant home that I manage ready for a new move in.
Why was I doing that? you might be asking yourself. I went through no less than 3 different handymen who had committed to doing the job for me, and they all flaked. So, I went to the one guy I KNEW wouldn't flake on me ('cuz if he did, he'd be learning to cook for himself!). Coach. My amazing (or is that just amazingly easy to persuade? hmm...) husband helped me out this weekend. And we brought (drug? coerced? bribed?) the teenager along, too. Yep. We packed Bug off to Grandma's for the weekend, and have spent 22 of the last 36 hours at that stupid home.
Now, I was fully prepared to spend the weekend playing referee between Coach and Jock. Lord knows that when those two spend a lot of time together, especially in situations where Coach has to be telling Jock what to do, there is HUGE potential for testosterone overload. And while we did have a couple of differences of opinion (Coach trying to tell Jock how to paint the trim with Jock responding with I know, Dad! for example.... and then the resulting trim job showing that No, he didn't actually know.), overall there wasn't a lot of head butting going on. And I think I figured out why:
While Jock had fun painting, both with the rollers and brushes, and with the spray cans, I'm pretty sure it was the use of the electric and cordless drills that he truly enjoyed. How do I know this? Well, he was asked to hang up some new mini-blinds. Which he's never done before. And he wanted to use the power tools. So..... he actually READ the instructions on how to hang up the blinds.
Why on earth did that make me smile? I STILL smile when I remember how earnest he looked, sitting on the edge of the bathtub, reading those instructions, then getting up and hanging his first set of mini-blinds. Might've been all the paint fumes, but something tells me I'm just overly sentimental when it comes to this boy. I seem to be having a hard time with him taking these step towards manhood.
Needs deodorant? Took that step when he was 11.
Noticeable facial hair? Hit that one by 12.
Started shaving? This one was hard for me, so I held him off until he turned 14.
First "date" (it was technically a group thing, but still!)? I cried that afternoon at home while he was at the movies. He was 14.
He'll be 15 in a month, and he's taken the next step towards the inevitable. He's started using power tools.
Its not all a bad thing, though. After all, I did get more voluntary I Love You, Mom's, without me saying it first!, this weekend than I've gotten in a long time. Had I known that would happen, I might have given him a power drill instead of that Jimi Hendrix CD for Christmas!