Remember that little baby you brought home from the hospital? The one that slept for the first three months. Ate everything you gave to him. Only cried when he was hungry? No? Oh, just me then. 'Cause that's the baby boy I had. There weren't even any terrible twos. He was a happy go lucky, sweet little boy who did as he was told and when I said jump asked politely, "How high, mama." Okay, maybe not quite like that, but I can dream.
Don't get me wrong, he's still a sweet little boy, but since he turned eleven he has... well... turned!
The sudden pitches in his voice when he's upset or shouting which (although highly amusing) indicate that one morning he's going to wake up with a voice like Barry White and frighten the crap out of me. Then there are the mood swings - oh dear God the mood swings! Where he alternates from normal, to "I hate you" to full on exorcist. I'm talking head-spinning, pea-souping, priest-punching, the whole nine yards!
And just when you think it can't get any weirder, along come the emotional outbreaks. The tears that appear from nowhere for the most bizarre reasons. Yesterday he wandered into the front room with tears streaming down his face to tell me he'd just gone up a level on the Xbox game he was playing. Yes, you heard me right! Tears of joy because of a video game, followed by the tears of sadness over the same game because someone blew him up!
Then, quick as a flash, he's my baby again. The same, kind, sensitive little soul he's always been, leaving me wondering what the hell just happened. I went through puberty, I know I did. But I don't remember being like this! Is it a man thing? Oh dear God, what happens when he notices girls? Or finds a hair on something?
I'm not entirely sure I'm ready for this. I think I might move out until it's all over!