I have been watching over the last few months as my eldest son has become a young man. The pictures on this web-site show a child, but in the last 6 months he has changed. He has changed fundamentally. The physical changes are obvious to any casual bystander. His upper lip is dark – a few months ago I thought it was dirty, and (like an idiot) tried to wipe it off. You know, the typical “mommy” thing of licking a thumb and scrubbing a child’s face. He laughed at me, and said, “I don’t think it’s gonna come off, Mom.”

I was mortified! WHEN did this happen to my baby? I stammered, and was horribly embarrassed, and afraid I had offended him or damaged his developing male ego.

But his reaction was mature. Which leads to the BIGGEST change. The inside changes. Yes, he stands less than an inch away from my own height now. And that bothers me some. He has shoulders now. You know SHOULDERS. And he’s grown three shoe sizes in this year – so far. He’s filling out and no longer looks like the gangly child in a growth spurt – and yet he KEEPS growing. But INSIDE, he’s becoming a man.

His take on things is more mature, at times, than they have any right to be. He’s able to control his emotions, has few childish outbursts, and has a “take” on life and a philosophy that often dumbfounds me. Of course I beam with pride, but it’s making me miss him. He’s so close to being gone. Yeah, four and a half years may not sound like soon — but I remember potty training him and teaching him to ride a bicycle just the other day. And only a couple years ago, I held him as a brand new being, in my arms for the first time.

And, as I try to get accustomed to HIS changes, his brother Derrick is doing the SAME thing. Only 22 months younger, he’s already getting that dark upper lip. Although the other changes haven’t appeared as dramatically with him yet, I know its coming. And, apparently, it’s going to come at an earlier age for him. He’s already learning to think for himself and to judge things accurately – something that was never apparent in him before, as the younger sibling. He’s still cuddly, at times. Still a child in his ways more often than not, and I will have him a bit longer, but it’s still happening.

I look at the picture of the three on my computer’s wallpaper and realize that the baby is the one that has changed the least since that picture was taken in January. The two boys on the screen bear little resemblance to the two young men living in my home.

I wonder if I’ll be able to stick to my resolve to push them from the nest at 18. I’ve always thought it was the best thing to do. I believe that keeping them home, LETTING children stay at home into adulthood is a horrible disservice to them. But now, as the inevitable is staring me in the face, my resolve is weakening. I genuinely LIKE these people – and the adults that they are becoming. I would like them even if they were not my sons. I’m sure of it.

And while my eldest discusses his desire to join the Air Force and become a pilot, I sit in awe. I encourage him to go to college first, to enter the forces as an officer, but he wants to go in to MAKE the money for college. I’ll keep pushing this issue. I want him to do college first. I want him to take the time to grow up a little before the military gets a shot at him. But, obviously, it is HE that will make the decision, not me.

And the youngest son told me the other day that he’s decided what he wants to do when he’s 18. I listen. He says that he wants to stay here on the farm, build a small house and live here. I grin. I’m thrilled, but I tell him “no.” He looks crushed.

I tell him that I love him dearly, and would like to have him here forever – BUT – that I want it to be by decision, not by default. I tell him that he may NOT live here from 18-22. That he must get out on his own, experience life, have fun, make mistakes, grow and learn. Then, after that time, if he still wants to move here – after he’s seen some of the “outside world” — that I’ll survey his part of the land immediately, and he can begin building. I tell him that I HOPE he goes to college, but even if he doesn’t, that I want him out on his own for four years before moving back. I tell him that if he doesn’t, that he will regret that decision later in life, that he will wonder about things OFF the farm, that he will feel like he “missed out.”

He tells me that he loves it here and this is where he wants to live, but says he understands why I have made the decision. He hugs me.

And after he leaves the room, I kick myself. And, although I know I’ve done the RIGHT thing, I’d love to just say “of COURSE you can stay here!” And I wonder, when he and his brother are ready to leave, if I’ll cling to their coat tails and change my mind.

I dread the inevitable now — daily – what will it be like when they turn seventeen?

Sigh.