As the mom of a 12-year old, I am guilty of many crimes. Yesterday, as we drove over to the boys’ other mom’s house in a terrible rush right after school (don’t get me started on the hell my ex has imposed under the guise of a shared custody schedule), Seth made me privy to most of them.

Number one, I’m gay.
Number two, I adopted Owen thus Owen is not really Seth’s brother
Number three, my ex is not Seth’s mom, because she adopted him
Number four, I’m gay
Number five, he has a dad out there somewhere who cares about him
Number six, I’m gay
Number seven, I stalk him and try to find out everything that he would like to keep private and he would never in a million years confide in me or ask me about anything important
Number eight, I’m gay
Number nine, I’m gay
Number ten, as he may have mentioned – snarled, really — I’m gay
Also, he will never have gay friends and he himself – OH MY FUCKING GOD! – would never, ever, in ten billion years, be gay
But, Owen is a faggot, and “I’m using that in a NICE way, mom!”

My mama’s boy – he who sought the comfort of nursing long after many felt he should abstain, who had such trouble venturing out on his own as a toddler and young child — is scratching and clawing his way out of the maternal realm into the mainstream. My therapist gently reminds me that he has to kick so hard because he loves me so much and is so comfortable in that realm, yet his hormones, the culture, and, don’t forget, the hell that is middle school, are emitting a siren call that cannot be denied. Venture forth! Be a man! Wear Ax deodorant!

I am doing my best to roll with it. I am not surprised at the furor and furiousness of his emotions – he has always been that way. Drama queen extraordinaire, my Seth. Everything is life and death, everything has to be done right now, everything is writ EXTREMELY LARGE. “Everything” meaning “Seth’s feelings and perceptions of the world.” Which are correct where mine, Owen’s, my Beau’s, my ex’s, her partner’s, are all unbelievably and irretrievably and obscenely FUCKED UP.

His desperate leap into the mainstream is just exactly the sort of thing that pushes all my buttons. Does he care that there’s butane in Ax? FUCK NO! He loves butane. He bathes in butane. Butane is the be-all and end-all. And by the way, is this food ORGANIC? Organic food sucks. Get some real food, would you! Jesus. How did he ever get born into this benighted family?

I said, “Well, honey, maybe you and I were put in the same family in order to learn some things from each other.” Miss New Age Spin – hey, I’m trying!

“Yeah, Mom, and what you can learn from me is DON’T BE GAY!!”

Ok, I cracked up, and even he couldn’t suppress just a teeny grin. Cause see what gives me hope is that he’s got a great sense of humor. And he loves little kids and is incredibly sweet to his little cousins. And as much as he’s trying to be a badass, he can’t help letting a little of that sweet come out just every once and a while.

I’m riding it – trying to walk among and through the shrapnel and hidden mines, letting him know I don’t like being yelled at, that it hurts my feelings, and then sticking around while he yells anyway and 10 minutes later is coming to ask me for help doing homework on the computer and leaning up against me like a big friendly dog as we work together.

I had a birthday this month and Seth and Owen made me a birthday card. I’m not going to quote from it, because it’s private, but suffice it to say, I choose to believe that that’s where the real Seth is revealed, in a love song to his mom, observant, kind, and empathic. And so so so SO not gay.

Published in: on January 15, 2009 at 10:50 PM  Leave a Comment  

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