I wish he could stay 12 forever

Normandy, France

We were sitting on the plane on our way to Paris and Louis was grinning from ear to ear when he was presented with a kid’s meal when dinner was served. I’m not sure why I even ordered it for him, I guess because I could. Many typical 12 year olds wouldn’t be that excited for the silly toy and applesauce. But Louis was.

The age of 12 is such an emotional intersection for kid. Part child, part adolescent, part teenager. While Louis is intellectually not typical to his peers, in so many ways he is typical. In Paris he was excited to see the lighted sign for a Tony Hawk exhibition. In Normandy he was fascinated with the tribute to American and Canadian soldiers and learned about the war. At the art museums he was patient and picked out his favorite paintings. At the Eiffel tower he was in awe and checked out the construction of the structure and didn’t complain after climbing many, many steps. At the Anne Frank house he kept asking why she had to stay in the room for two years. Yet during all that he had a name tag on a Spongebob Square Pants cord with our name and phone number in the event that he was to get lost and not be able to communicate how to find us. 

Louis is getting older and I’m part excited and part panicked. He was a great traveler and it occurred to me on this trip that for Paul and I to travel as we get older, Louis will most likely to be with us. That’s okay. Yet I’m also panicked for the young man part and the typical challenges of raising a pre teenage boy.  He’s found a new fascination and annoyance with his penis. When he was a chubby little boy it was well, stuck in the shell as Paul said. “The turtle is coming out of the shell now,” he said a couple of weeks ago when the teacher called me at home to have me talk to him about the appropriateness of touching it during class.  Fortunately it was from the outside. A few days before that he had been complaining that it was hurting and they called from school too. I had to explain that he has suddenly…well….emerged and we are working on it.

I can’t even imagine what lies ahead when it comes to this subject. I mentioned to Paul that hey, I handled Danielle’s "emergence" (and teenage emergencies)  and he’s going to have to handle this department. I’m a patient mom, but not that patient. I’d rather be the turtle and hide in my shell.

originally written 29 November 2009

It's called GLOBAL warming

I’m not a scientist. I’m not a talk show host. I’m not a meteorologist. I’m a mom, and I’m an American living in Canada. You know, Canada? The country hosting the Winter Olympics? The ones where they have had to postpone events due to the unusually warm weather? The place where it’s rumored we live in igloos? It’s called Global warming….not just U.S. warming.

When I read that even Donald Trump is getting in to the Global warming witch hunt, I wanted to take a snow shovel to a snowman. But, I can’t. See, here in Canada, we’re experiencing a lack of snowfall. A sort of, dare I say, Global warming? Or, is it just a Canadian warming?  And don’t even get me started on Rush…I mean, really, environazis? Now I have yet another one of his words to add to my spell check.

I live in Montreal. I can count on one hand the number of times our pre-paid snow removal company has had to come and plow our driveway. I’m seeing patches of grass (and lots of dog poop) that we’re not supposed to be seeing until mid-March, at the earliest. Some of us new-Canadians actually want snow. Perhaps because I grew up in Arizona, I’m a sucker for snow and it’s still a novelty. My friends in Chicago, where we moved from 16 months ago, are tired of the snow, understandably.  

So, to the naysayers, the right wing pundits like Beck Limbaugh, Trump and Hannity and whoever else is seeking publicity…I’m sorry if this Global warming "myth" has rained on your Florida parade. Okay, I’m not really sorry.  It’s just not all about you. Nor is it all about the U.S. It’s a big, Global world out there. Why not stick your head in a snow bank, or send the snow up north to Canada. We’re starting to sweat up here, eh?