Happy 13th, Lad!

I am back. I am having a strange feeling today. It dawns on me that it is official. I am officially the father of a teenager. Yes, the Lad turned 13 today. He is now, and for 7 more years, a teenager. Where the fuck has the time gone?

I have recounted in these posts the day of his arrival in as much detail as I can recall. It has been 13 years after all, not to mention all the alcohol I needed to "wash" down those years. Like all periods of life, this one has had some good times (watching him play and grow) and some sad times (loss of the Outlaws).

He has grown into a tall, sensitive, bright young man. Again, I am struck by how he looks like a boy sometimes and sometimes looks like a young teenager. It is those awkward, sort of gawky, years that he has entered. I went through them and so will he.

The Wife says that I cannot comment on his growing teen moustache. "It would embarrass him". Commenting would embarrass him? What about the catepillar starting to grow under his nose, that does not embarrass him? Look, I kept mine (you should see my grade 9 photo, all of 14 with my curly, permed hair, and cheesy teen moustache) until one of my best friend's older brother told me that I looked like Ringo Starr. He was so correct (think of the picture of Ringo from the White Album) so the next day, I took a razor from my father and shaved the fucking thing off. I would shave whenever I had to from there.

At the time, it did seem embarrassing and most of my good friends were in the same cheesy, lip-hairy boat. Most of us had done the shaving thing by the end of 1978 and had a smooth upper lip to show for it. I did have one friend, idiot that he was and may still very well be, who would tweeze the stray chin and lip hairs. Give up the ghost, motherfucker, and just shave....who do you think you were fooling? Of course, this dude was quite the sun-worshipper and would ask doctors opinions on his tan and the damage he was doing. He finally settled on the one doctor who did not think it was a problem. There is no accounting for searching out somebody who will let you "keep" your delusions.

Anyway, I guess my shaving his moustache (I can see him having me do it for him, out of fear of cutting himself, as I did it for my brother at about that age) will be a post for another day, when it, of course, occurs.

I am still unclear how I can be the father of a teenager. In fact, that means that I could be a grandfather at any time. I mean, he may be able to knock up some chick. Thankfully, I do not have a daughter, let alone a slutty one. This is bad enough and driving becomes the next great fear frontier for me, apparently.

For now, I am going to have to remember that hormones rule and that long term, rational thought is going to be his sworn, mortal enemy for a time. If he is anything like I was/am, it may not be too bad as he will have a sensible side that will continue to rear its head most times.

I know I went through puberty and the insane teen years without too much trouble. Of course, I was never afraid to march to the tune of my own drummer. Peer pressure was not that great influence on me. Sadly, I have long taken a hard look at my peer group and would always have to question motives and such. One of the greatest cartoons that I had clipped from the Wall Street Journal (the Wife has long since thrown it out, because she just does not understand) had a guy in court. He turns to his lawyer and says, "I hardly consider 12 people who could not get out of jury duty as MY peers." Those were and are my sentiments about my teen years, too.

With that, I will say happy 13th birthday, Lad. I love you more and more each day and I can barely express in words how proud you have me feel and I can see that feeling increasing (until December 2012, then the world goes kablooey and it is survival mode and dammit we Well Adjusted Madmen types will have to survive, I will WILL that to occur). Nice to end on a happy thought, Ciao!