Eldest loves his mom. He always has. He always will. Even when he will hate his mom, he will love her. I guess the only way I'm even marginally equipped to handle ultimately parenting a teenager is the understanding that even when I despised my mom in those early teen years, I loved her.
Eldest is a good kid. A really good kid. Oh, sure, he does stupid-ass, 12-year-old-boy crap. I, in return, do stupid-ass, 47-year-old-mother-of-12-year-old-boy crap.
Last week, just before my surgery, he spent precious Xbox points to download two Springsteen songs for Guitar Hero. I believe he said he spent more than half of his stash of points on them.
Why did he do that? Is he a big Springsteen fan? Nope. He did it so that his mother would consent to sing (easy level) to his guitar (expert level) and his brother's bass (beginner level).
Sometimes, quality time is in a dark, dank room illuminated by the glow of a screen and the sound of excellent video game guitar and an off-key voice drowning out the fabulous music of Bruce.
I mentioned to Eldest the other night that I had a fairly wide open day Friday. Writer that he is, he wondered if I would perhaps like a wri...
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