Bye, Bye, Baby Boy and 80s Music

I spend my days

Driving him

Places he doesn't want to go.

The Boy used to be a momma's boy. Today, he falls asleep in the front seat as I drive him around. I think of him as a toddler, with his head against the window.

My Aunt has two boys. They are grown now, but they are still her boys. She got divorced before the second was born, and they have doted on her every day of their lives. Sometimes one will be there, then the other. She tried to keep them at bay, at a distance, making sure they have their own lives and not only take care of her. They dote on her nonetheless.

"That's what I want," I said to my cousin when I saw his brother hug my Aunt. The Boy was probably one at the time.

"A momma's boy?" he said.

The Boy used to be nice to me. Now, he is thirteen, and in some serious rebellion. He doesn't want me around very much. At times, he thinks I am fine and interesting and nice when I programmed the radio in the RAV to an 80's station. He loves music from the 80's when bands were bands with guitars and drum kits, not a singer with a track. This I know, I am an expert, though I'd rather listen to current pop than music I heard in middle and high school. I listen anyway, knowing the names of the songs and artists. REM and It's the End of the World as We Know It (and I Feel Fine). Madonna and Lucky Star. 

The Boy will show me a silly YouTube video from SNL or show me pictures of airplanes on Instagram. Otherwise, he is plugged into his phone, listening to music, playing games and checking how many "likes" he has on social media.

The house is so quiet when he is around, the opposite of how it used to be. I wonder if he breathes when he looks at his phone. I remember checking him while he slept before we knew he had sleep apnea and had his tonsils out. I'd go in his room and I would hear nothing. Those were the times he wasn't breathing when he slept. When he looks at his phone, it sounds the same: the sound of nothing. I try to be there when he awakens from his electronic induced coma, but it is hard when he is grouchy. I have awoken a bear.

I know that part of being a teenager is to be unpleasant most of the time, to find and define himself outside of me. I'll wait. I know he will come back someday. I'll miss him in the meantime.