When my oldest son Robert was born, almost 12 years ago, I was his world. He wouldn’t even allow anybody else to feed him; it was all mommy, all the time. As he grew he continued to hold me in high esteem. I could always count on him for big hugs and kisses many times throughout the day. He used to come to me for the answer to all of life’s burning questions, and I always tried to answer them to the best of my knowledge. The questions in the early years were fairly easy, “Where does the poop go after you flush it?” As he got older, the questions became a little more challenging and we would often go online and look up the answers together. “What does the Woolly Caterpillar become?” But, I was still the one he looked to for the answers. All of that has changed.
I’m not exactly sure when the change occurred; perhaps it was around the same time his obsession with “Star Wars” began. He would ask me questions that only another “Star Wars” obsessed individual would be able to answer. Invariably I would have to refer him to his father. One day he said to me “You know Mom, Dad is smarter than you.” While this may be true in the strict IQ sense of the definition, it still hurt. Very calmly I asked, “Why would you say that?” His matter of fact response, “You don’t know anything about Star Wars.” I laughed it off. Sure he knows not to come to me for Star Wars questions, but he must know that I am smart about other things. But no, he has decided that I am a complete idiot and cannot function without his “help”. As soon as we get in the car to go anywhere I always hear from the back seat. “Do you know where we are going?” Or sometimes the variation, “Do you know how to get there?” When I am looking over his homework “Do you understand what I am doing?” The worse is when he checks my answers with my husband. As if he can’t accept that what I said could possibly be right. Just the other day he had a question about solar flares. I gave him a very complete and correct answer. Later, in the car he asked his father the very same question. I couldn’t believe it. Shocked I asked “Didn’t I just tell you the same thing?” He answered, “yeah, but it didn’t sound right so I wanted to check with Dad.”
I would like to say that I understand this is a natural part of growing up and that I don’t take it personally, but I can’t. It annoys me. When we are backing out of the driveway and he asks me some asinine question about whether or not I know where we are going I very often get sarcastic in my response. “Oh no, I thought we would just drive around aimlessly and hope we come upon it.” Sometimes I just get angry. “Do you think I am a complete moron, why would we be in the car if I didn’t know where we were going?” Before you judge me too harshly for my anger, please be aware that I have three boys who can never find their shoes when it is time to leave and who can never get into the car without some sort of altercation. So I am never in a good mood when we are leaving the house. When the questions start, it is really all I can do to keep from stopping the car and screaming at the top of my lungs. “I am not an idiot; I got along just fine before you were born. I actually went to college had a job and was able to feed, dress myself and find my way to and from work every day. All without some smart mouthed twelve year old telling me what to do and how to get there.”
I don’t know when the tide will turn. I have a feeling this is just the tip of the iceberg. He has recently started adding the deep sighs and eye rolling to his repertoire of activities to show me his disdain for my lack of intelligence. I’m told the teen years are worse. I can hardly wait.
Oh, in case you were wondering, the Woolly Caterpillar becomes a simple brown moth. Nothing too spectacular. I was disappointed too.
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